Trust me
by naiad8
Summary: A sexually charged bit of seventh year plot. Hermione and Ginny discover a remarkable potion, which could help turn the tide against the dark. RWHG.HPGW.RLNT.SSNM.DMOFC.NLLL.BWFD
1. Hermione and Ron

This is a naughty bit I wrote for Ron and Hermione with plans for a larger story of seventh year. Please review, and if there's interest I might write more, or at least what happens with other partners.

Trust Me…..

Ron sat on the edge of his bed in 12 Grimmauld, his head in his hands, rubbing his temples. Unfortunately, he hadn't mastered any spells to charm away a headache. A day of combing books in the Room of Requirement had left his eyes sore and his head pounding. Research was not his strong point, but they had run out of ideas. He sighed, stood up, and pulled his jumper over his head, getting ready to go to bed. At least Grimmauld was comfortable now, and the large bed accommodated his tall frame easier than his old bed at the Burrow, or even Hogworts. It was big, but it was still lonely. _Oh Merlin, if I start daydreaming over Hermione again, I'm bloody never going to get to sleep without letting off steam, and she's going to kill me if she ever finds out…_

There was a knock at the door, and Ron turned, only to have Hermione walk in carrying two potion vials, and quickly shut the door with her elbow.

"Hello Ron."

"Hi, Hermione."

He stared at her, and blushed, conscious of the way in which he had just been thinking of her. Then blushed harder, realizing that she was staring at his bare chest. She couldn't believe her timing, maybe this would be easier than she had feared.

"Oy there," he said, grabbing for the discarded jumper, "You can't just walk in on a bloke at this hour. You've warned us enough times of that yourself."

Hermione blushed as well. "I…I d..don't m…mind the view…" she stuttered.

Ron gaped at her. She heaved a huge sigh, and brought one of the vials to her lips, and drank it down. She shivered at the bitter taste. "Not too terrible. Let's hope it's not wasted, or I'm going to be miserable tonight." She walked across the room, and sat down on the bed. She was so scared, and so nervous, she couldn't raise her eyes to him for a minute. When she did, she saw that Ron's gaze was fixed on her legs, bare beneath her robes.

"Weren't you wearing jeans and a T-shirt earlier?" he asked, unconsciously licking his lips.

"Well, I….you'll find out soon enough." She paused. "Look, this stuff takes about five minutes to go into effect, so I better explain before I'm not completely myself." Ron looked puzzled, one eyebrow raised in question.

Hermione giggled, actually giggled. "Oh you are so cute like that."

Dumbfounded Ron sat next to her on the bed, forgetting the jumper still in his hands. "What are you going on about?"

"Well, I found a very interesting book a few weeks ago."

"Oh, work" Ron sighed, and started to pull on the jumper.

"No, not work." Hermione put her hand on his arm, and he felt it like a brand. Conscious again of his lack of shirt, he scooted away and finished donning the sweater. She felt rejected, and nervously dropped the empty vial on the bedside table, and because to pass the other from hand to hand.

"What then?" Ron said testily.

"Don't ruin this!" Hermione bit back. "I've worked for a week on brewing this," she held up the vial, her hands shaking, tears forming in her eyes.

"Hermione, don't start." Ron caught her arm with one hand, and placed the other hand on the side of her face. "No one works harder than you, ok? We would all be lost without you, don't you know? I'm just tired, that's all"

Hermione smiled. "Sometimes Ron, you can be very sweet. I guess that's why I'm doing this." She closed her eyes. "Do you trust me?"

Ron let go of her, and squinted at her. "Well yes, but this isn't some prank Fred and George put you up to, is it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, it's my own idea, thank you very much." She took the second vial, and drank about half. Then she held it in front of Ron. "Drink this. I don't think you'll regret it."

Ron looked at the vial, then at Hermione. He took the vial and drank it down, setting the empty vial on the bedside table. "Now what, do I suddenly become smarter or something? Grow another set of eyebrows? What?"

Hermione smiled. "I think you're just fine the way you are." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. He blushed again. They had shared a few kisses over the past months; hurried things. They hadn't talked much about their feelings, because the heavy atmosphere and tension of the search for the Horcruxes had precluded much romance. But that didn't mean he didn't think about her every moment he could. He gazed into her warm brown eyes, and felt himself fill with renewed energy.

She looked into his eyes as well, and began to breathe in short gasps. "Oh my….I better finish my explanation, or you'll never understand. Do you remember that comment Fred and George made a few days ago, when they…well, caught us kissing?"

"Ha," Ron laughed nervously, "about hurrying things up, because You-Know-Who might begin virgin sacrifices?" He gaped, hope stirring in his heart. "You don't take them seriously do you?"

"Well, according to Ancient Rites of the Dark, druids did try to tap the power of….." Ron rolled his eyes, and Hermione stopped. "That's not what I , no I don't take that seriously, I just….I don't want to….I mean I want to…" She stood up, and paced. "The potion I took, the first one….it's got side effects."

She stopped in front of him, she leaned down and looked him in the eye. "The second potion should have taken effect by now, do you feel nervous?"

Ron realized he did. He felt strange, nervous, and his skin felt different like everything was more sensitive. He felt a band around his ribs, and then, suddenly, he could feel his pants get tighter, his breath come faster, he was excited, he felt surrounded by pulsing energy. Embarrassed, he blushed yet again, and prayed that Hermione didn't look down to see the bulge in his pants. "Hermione, what the heck did you give me?"

"Well, that book I found was very interesting. It was a textbook on potions and spells, of a very peculiar kind. The first potion I took, Pentathum Neosum mimics certain hormonal states of the fifth month of pregnancy."

"What! Why?"

"Well, you can't conceive a child when you are already pregnant, can you?"

Ron's jaw dropped. He shook his head. He couldn't think clearly, as it seemed most of his blood had left his brain for sites farther south. Hermione put her hands on his knees, dangerously close to that part of him he most wanted to conceal from her, and yet most wanted her to touch. She smiled, a slow seductive half smile.

"You might want to unbutton your trousers Ron, that hurts."

Ron eyes became saucers. "How would you know that?"

Hermione grinned. "The second potion, called Amora Miratum, when shared by the right people, renders both partners capable of feeling an echo of the feelings of the other. I think it's working, but let's try an experiment." She ran her fingers down the side of her neck, from her ear to her shoulder, pushing the robe slightly down. There was no shirt visible beneath the robe. Ron could feel a ghostly sensation on his neck at the same place, and he shivered, the feeling causing his arousal to pulse.

Hermione stood up, and leaned against the bed post next to him. She closed her eyes, and gasped. Ron panted, staring at her shoulder, her robe pushed down now he could see the strap of her bra. He wanted to reach out and touch her shoulder, to touch her anywhere. Too nervous, he instead rubbed his finger over his lips, wondering if she could feel what he felt.

She opened her eyes, and put her finger to her own lips. She smiled. "It worked, it really worked, oh Ron." She ran her hands down her body, outlining her curves in the billowing black witch's robe. "The Pentathum potion has some side effects, it makes you very…well very…."

"Randy?" Ron queried, he voice cracking.

"Yes!" Hermione panted. "Ron, I need….I don't want to lose you, and…."

"Hermione, you could never loose me. But are you sure you want…"

"Ron we may die tomorrow! Anyway, you are the only man I could ever want to…." Ron jumped up and wrapped his long arms around her, and she gasped. He crushed her lips in a longing kiss. She plunged her hands into his vibrant red hair. Minutes or hours passed. The kiss was amazing, tongues dueling, feeling both sides of the kiss together. Somehow they ended up on the bed. He left her mouth, and trailed kisses down to her neck, and she shivered with need.

"You didn't need to do this potion bit, 'Mione. I…I want you every time you walk in a room. Whenever I see your hair up when you're pouring over a book, I want to kiss your neck." He nibbled the skin under her ear, and they both moaned. "But gosh, what a way to find out what you like!"

She pushed him away. He looked crestfallen, and then she grinned. She kicked off her shoes, and knelt on the bed, pulling her robes off over her head.

Ron stopped breathing. She wore nothing under her robes but a pink bra and panties. "Please tell me you don't dress like this all the time, or I'll never be able to think with you in the room again!"

She laughed and shook her head. "This was something special. Now, I can tell you are in pain from those pants, you they have to go!" She dived for the button, and he laughed and swatted her away, and while he unzipped, she tugged at the jumper and pulled it over his head. Blinded, he bounded off the bed, pulled off the sweater, and pulled off the jeans. He stood before her in his Chudley Cannons boxers, and she giggled. He blushed, and stared at her, as she lay in the bed up on her elbows, her curves exposed to his eyes. She followed the line of her legs, and the curve of her waist, until finally he gazed into her eyes. She sat up, and reached behind her to undo the clasp on her bra, and slowly pulled it off, her gaze lowered, a pink blush staining her cheeks.

Ron cleared his throat as he looked at the two pale mounds, tipped with dark pink nipples. His mouth ran dry, and he couldn't believe he could ever have gotten this hard, his erection tenting his boxers to their limits. He climbed up on the bed, and knelt before her. He reached out a hand and brushed the side of her left breast. She closed her eyes, and her head hung back. He let out a gasp.

"You're so sensitive! What if I…" He brushed his fingers over her nipple, and she moaned. She felt electricity course through her. His own nipples tightened in response, the feeling unlike anything he could have imagined. She collapsed back on the bed, and he followed, laying partially atop her, weight supported on one arm. She brought her hand up against his chest, and ran her hand over his pectorals, hard and fit after weeks of lugging books all over and training every spare hour with the Order. They both shivered in response to the shared sensations. He bent over her, and stopped just shy of her right nipple, his breath coming hard and fast. His breath upon her caused her to moan, and he closed his eyes in shock. He could feel not only his own desire to take her nipple into his mouth, but her desire for him to do so. It was almost as though he could read her mind, if not in words, then in wants. The combination was impossible to resist. He dipped his head, and opened his mouth around the peak, sucking lightly.

She let out a sharp, "Ron!" and clasped her hands behind his head. He mumbled something against her, and shook her head to clear it. "What!"

He raised his head. "I guess you liked that? Actually, I don't have to guess." He winked.

She pulled a pillow from behind her head and hit him with it. He retaliated by recapturing her nipple, and making them both groan as fire seemed to run through their veins, and sparks flooded from their chests to their pulsing genitals. Ron came up for air, and looked into her eyes. Time stopped as they caught their breath.

Hermione was amazed at their differences. She could feel the echo of the blood pulsing through his arousal, and feel his urgency. Ron knew Hermione was wet for him, waiting to be touched, to be filled. She had started this, but Ron took the initiative now. There was no way not to feel how much she wanted him, and how much he wanted her, so all the confusion and questioning of their past was pushed away. He had thought he wouldn't know what to do, but it was as though her body spoke to him. He trailed his fingers down her stomach, and his fingertips slid down into her panties. She was so swollen with desire, that these lips had already parted for him. He wanted to touch her, to understand the feelings he received from her. They both jumped as he slid a finger against her folds. Hermione stared into his eyes, and Ron into hers. Using his knowledge of the sensations flooding her body, he quickly found the center of her pleasure, and rubbed it gently with his index finger. Her eyes rolled back at the feelings, so powerful she couldn't have imagined how incredible it was when someone else touched her. He continued to flick back and forth, emitting pants as the sensations he caused within her were mirrored back to him. A light stroke evoked more reaction than a heavy stroke. A millimeter to the left and the pleasure was doubled. Their breathing was louder than a freight train.

Ron pulled back suddenly, and Hermione's eyes flew open. He backed up until he knelt before her, and he hooked his finger in her panties and pulled them off. Casting them aside, he looked down upon her. He whispered, "Lumos", and suddenly a ball of light appeared above the bed. Surprised, they both looked up at it. Hermione, blushed, but Ron smiled.

"How?"

"Don't care, just enjoy it."

He whispered a locking charm and glanced at the door, adding a Muffilato for good measure. Hermione was puzzled, _how was this possible, where was his wand_? Ron didn't question how it was possible, he just smiled at the view of Hermione, spread out before him, naked and glorious, her brown hair a halo about her, and her sex moist and wet, waiting for him to return.

Hermione blushed, trying to cover herself. "Don't be shy 'Mione," Ron chastised. "I've dreamed of you this way since I was thirteen, don't deny me my fantasy, especially when it's so much better when it's real."

He touched her again, watching and feeling her reaction to it. It was amazing, and yet not enough. He bent forward, looking at the rose of her folds, and slowly he pushed a finger into her. She writhed beneath him as his slowly began to stroke her. Her body seemed to tell him what to do, and the sensations they felt were almost overwhelming, although he felt compelled to continue. _If I feel this good, and this is an echo, she must be senseless with it. _He glanced up to her face, and she watched him, her eyes glassy and her lips parted. He wanted to kiss her, but didn't want to leave where he was. He looked down at her folds, and instinct took over. His finger still inside her, he kissed her, tasting her sweet essence and running his tongue over her. She screamed and clutched at his hair, and he was wracked with sensation so strong, that he began to suck on her, the only thing he was capable of, as his brain was overwhelmed with her pleasure. His finger started to stroke in a rhythm with his mouth on her, and she convulsed around him, screaming his name. Somehow he kept it up until a last wave overwhelmed him, and he came as well, helpless against the onslaught of her orgasm. The ball of light above them shattered, sending sparks all over the room.

He rolled over her leg onto the bed, and they both panted. She sat up first, and scooted down next to him. "I always knew you'd find something you were really good at besides wizard chess." She winked at him.

He groaned in response. He was both inordinately pleased with the complement, and embarrassed by the wet sticky stain in his boxers. "Well, you do seem to inspire me. Much better than all those muggle magazines that Dean kept under his bed."

"Ha! I better be more interesting than that, especially after that book I read." She huffed.

He looked at her quizzically. She smiled, a sensuous, woman's smile. "Not all studying is boring you know. My turn to play!" Hermione jumped off the bed, pulling off his boxers with a smooth motion and standing at the end of the bed between his long legs. He cringed at her examination of the sticky evidence of his orgasm, but the reality of a girl, especially this girl, the one inhabiting his dreams for the better part of five years, staring in fascination at his penis soon overcame embarrassment, and he rose to the occasion.

She gasped as blood began to fill his cock again, and it hardened before her eyes. She was a little frightened, as he seemed so much bigger than what she had expected. She tried a spell of her own. "Lumos" and the ball of light was back, no wand required. "Interesting….but not as interesting as you at the moment." She leaned forward and stroked his cock, feeling the hot skin and his reaction to her touch. He became harder at her touch, and she smiled at the evidence of her own power. She grasped him in her hand and ran her hand up and down his penis, and watched as his stomach muscles clenched in pleasure. Feeling her own throbbing desire return with each stroke. She adjusted each stroke for maximum sensation, using his mirrored sensation and his pants and groans as her guide. "You are sticky you know. I think I'll have to clean you up." She straightened, and whispered, "Wingardium leviosa" she floated above him, and grabbed his legs to keep herself from floating to the ceiling. He stared at her in fascination as she ran her hands up his legs to his hips, and she pulled herself forward until to took the tip of his cock into her mouth, at which point he collapsed back on the bed and enjoyed the attentions of his clever lover. She gripped his hips and ran her tongue over him, licking him clean, and stopping to suck every so often. She could feel every nerve in his body on fire for her. Suddenly she took a deep breath, and practically swallowed him, in response to his unspoken need. He bucked off the bed in response, and as she returned to sucking fast and hard, she could feel incredible sensation begin to build for him, and her body respond in kind, her sex throbbing with vicarious sensation. She moved back and forth with a steady rhythm until he roared and came hard, shooting to the back of her throat as she began to convulse as well. She sucked hard in response, and swallowed him down, tasting the lovely earthy saltiness. Wracked with her own orgasm, she sucked mindlessly until he stopped shuddering, and then she fell hard on top of him, her will ceasing its ability to keep her afloat. He grunted, and she giggled.

"I guess you are my angel then?" Ron asked. "You're awfully heavy though when you fall!" She smacked his shoulder and they both said, "Ow!" And laughed.

"I guess I have to be nice to you then."

"Guess so." He drew her into his arms and held her against his chest, reveling in the sensation of their naked bodies touching, her breasts against his chest, her hips cradling his. His hand touched her face, and drew her up for a sweet kiss.

"How did you know to do all that, you were incredible?" he asked her, wonder in his voice.

She blushed, amazed that she could still feel embarrassment. "I found those potions in a book called, "Sesso migliore Magico". It was stuck behind an old cabinet in the book room of the Room of Requirement. It had a lot of advice about…well…you know, and I learned an awful lot. Sometimes studying can be very useful. What about you, you're pretty amazing yourself?" she regarded him with an arched eyebrow.

"I would claim a very active imagination and a stack of magazines from Dean, but really it felt like your body was talking to me, telling me what to do. It was weird, and very cool."

"It's strange, but I feel the same. Whatever I secretly wanted, you knew. Was it the same for you?"

"Absolutely, beyond my wildest dreams. If that's that Amora stuff, we could sell it and make more money that Fred and George ever could!" he laughed.

Suddenly, Hermione became serious. "I'm afraid not Ron, I… I took a big risk with that potion you know. I didn't want to tell you, but it's only supposed to work for two people who truly love each other. Otherwise it's only like water."

"Oh…gee 'Mione, I….you love me? Really?

"Ron, would I be doing this otherwise?" she huffed.

"Of course not, but, it would be nice to hear the words. I…I love you. For ages really, I don't even remember when I didn't."

She smiled. "I love you Ronald Weasley."

He captured her lips for another kiss. As the kiss deepened, they could feel each other become aroused again, and Hermione smiled up at him.

"That was fast! I always thought it would take longer to try again."

"I think you are just irresistible, or it's something in one of those potions."

"I prefer to think it was me." She paused. "Do you want to try…do you want to…."

"More than anything 'Mione. I just don't want to hurt you. I've heard it hurts the girl the first time."

"Scared huh?" She grinned. He frowned. "I know you don't want to hurt me Ron. You are so sweet. But I want to share this with you. I want to feel you inside me."

His arousal pulsed with those words. At least he knew he wouldn't embarrass himself and come the moment he was inside of her, all their previous activities would have given him some stamina, he hoped. He rolled over, pinning her beneath him, and he trailed kisses down her neck. He could feel her body singing to him again, whispering its wants and needs. His hands cupped her hips against him, and her hands twined around his back, lightly stroking circles on his bare skin. His fingers found her core again, and he twitched at the sensation of his finger teasing her wet folds. They were ready for each other, and energy sparked between them.

He rose up above her, a question in his eyes. The answer was in hers. He positioned himself over her, and she grasped his erection, guiding it toward her center. Slowly he entered, feeling his own pleasure at the tight, wet heat, and her own excitement tinged with fear.

"It's ok Hermione, I'll be careful."

"I know, love."

He slowly went deeper, until he felt resistance. He stopped, unsure what to do. Suddenly, she wrapped her legs around his waist and jerked her hips forward, impaling herself on him. They both cried out at the sudden sharp pain. They held each other, their mingled breath harsh.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I wanted it. I wanted you."

"I love you."

They kissed again, her legs still locked around his hips, and he could no longer suppress the desire to move within her, to feel her walls wrapped around him. As he moved, they both moaned, pleasure wiping out any sense of pain. She could feel his excitement as she engulfed him, and he could feel her completeness at being filled by him. She panted encouragement in his ear, and he could sense her desire for faster, and harder. He thought she would want him to be gentle, but both of their instincts pushed them. They strained together, he pounded into her as she arched to meet him. The air around them crackled with energy, the bed curtains moved as though a wind whipped through the room. They both felt something build within them, united them together, and as he thrust as deep as he could, and touched her womb, she screamed her climax, and he roared his, as they bucked together. Sparks of white and purple danced behind their clenched eyes, as they rode not only their own orgasm, but their partners. The echoes lapped back and forth like waves, building to an amazing crescendo. There was an audible pop, and a vase across the room cracked and broke. He collapsed atop her, and she cradled him with her body. Silence reigned, as no words could explain what had happened.

_I love you_. They said together, but the silence remained unbroken.

Ron picked up his head from her shoulder. "Did you hear that?"

"Yes. Could you hear me?"

"Yes. Hmmm…what am I thinking?" Ron concentrated, squinting his eyes together.

Hermione blushed, "You think I taste better than Sugar Quills."

"And you think I'm cute when I squint."

_How is this possible?_ Ron stroked her face tenderly, rolling on to his side with her.

"The potions, the book, I….it was in Italian, so we were guessing at some of the stuff. It was very old Italian. It said something about sensations uniting together, with love that is strong. I just thought it would mean you could feel some of what I could feel. I didn't think you could read my mind, or….how could we do magic without our wands?"

"We? We?" Ron concentrated a moment, staring at Hermione's blushing face.

"Ginny? You were working on this with Ginny? My little sister! She knows what we're doing?"

Hermione shut her eyes tightly, trying to block him out. Ron leaped off the bed.

"Ginny is somewhere with Harry right now isn't she! She originally found the book, and now…"

Hermione nodded sheepishly. Ron started rushing around the room looking for his boxers. Hermione scowled, and evil thought flashed in her mind.

Ron looked up. "Never? You'll never let me….you wouldn't do that, this was too incredible."

"I absolutely would. I won't let you make them miserable. They need each other, just as much as we do. Come back to bed Ron, let's see how long it takes for this stuff to run out. I couldn't figure it out from the book, I need to find a better translating charm. Let's see what else we can do." She whispered, "Wingardium Leviosa" again, and rose up slowly over the bed. She pointed at him, and he rose as well. He dropped the underwear he was holding with a slack look on his face, and wrapped his arms around her. Suspended, they shared another kiss, and sparks began to crackle around them again. He lost himself in the kiss, choosing to forget his little sister for the moment, hoping Harry wouldn't hurt her again.


	2. Harry and Ginny

Thanks everyone for the great feedback. I've made the time to write another bit for Harry and Ginny, and if this goes over well, I will add a lovely Remus and Tonks bit that has been fermenting in my mind. I'd love to do more, but I need some feedback as to what couples people might be interested in. A few caveats: no cheating, no threesomes, I'm not very good with slash. I'd love for a suggestion for a partner for Snape, since I love him and wish I had the guts to come up with my own OOC for him to be partnered with. If anyone out there wants to volunteer their OOC for a nice little dirty scene for me to write, I would be very grateful! Also, I'm looking for a beta, as I such at proofreading.

The young man with unruly black hair and the odd shaped scar on his forehead sat slumped over, his chin propped on his arms which rested on a large table. His normally piercing green eyes stared unseeing at a heavy tome open in front of him. It was very late, or very early, depending on your perspective, and the young man had been staring at one book or another for most of the long night. His friends had left to find their beds, but he had remained, focused with intensity beyond his seventeen years upon his task.

Still, youth would not be denied completely. Fatigue and longing had combined with the strange nature of the hour of two A.M. to plunge him into a waking dream involving a certain beautiful redhead, a waterfall, and a bathing suit which seemed enchanted to come off with the least provocation. As a result, he had a rather dreamy smile on his face, and his pants were getting uncomfortably tight.

He did not hear the door creaking open to an old, beat up wardrobe, or notice that self-same redhead creep up behind him, carrying a flagon of pumpkin juice and two goblets. She smiled, a slow seductive smile signaling a victory to be savored.

"Hello Harry. Happy to see me?"

The Boy-Who-Lived, Harry James Potter, who had survived multiple onslaughts by the darkest and most powerful wizard of the age, was nearly killed as he jumped in his chair and fell over backward with a resounding crash.

"Oh, bugger me."

"Such language, Harry." She giggled as she helped him up. He held her hand a second longer than necessary, and bent to pick up the fallen chair. From his position, he had a marvelous view of her legs. He tried to chase such thoughts away, as they would remove his resolve to stay away from her, to protect her from himself. It was perfectly fine to daydream, but in her presence, the temptation to let his thoughts run away with him and pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless was overwhelming.

She certainly wasn't helping his efforts. Her wizard's robes nowhere to be seen, she wore a short muggle skirt and a little T-shirt. Nothing terribly revealing, but still, they hugged her curves and revealed enough of her pale lustrous skin to cause his heart to beat a bit faster. She pulled out another chair at the table and sat, and he returned to his chair.

"I thought you could use a bit of a break, if you refuse to sleep." She poured the contents of the flagon into the two cups, and seemed to spend quite a bit of time making sure that the cups were even, and every last drop had been gotten out of the flagon. She suddenly seemed as nervous as he felt, and he wondered why.

"Shouldn't you be asleep as well, Gin? I didn't hear you come in from the hall." He glanced at the still locked door leading into Hogwarts from the Room of Requirement.

"I'm a prefect now, remember?" She sighed. So few students had returned to Hogwarts, McGonagall had pressed her into service. "I think I can wander the halls a bit without anyone getting too riled up. No one is as uptight as Snape was." He flinched at the name. She went on, wishing she had not brought up the name of the man Harry still wanted to find and punish, almost more than Voldemort himself. "I was just having a bit of a talk with Hermione at Grimmauld." She indicated the cabinet she had entered through. Though Malfoy had used it to let Death Eaters into Hogwarts, Arthur Weasley had confiscated it from Malfoy Manor and brought it to Grimmauld. It had become incredibly useful, as the Trio, and several of the DA, had begun to pore themselves into research in the immense collection of books that resided in the Room of Requirement.

To Harry it was especially useful, as it allowed him to see Ginny almost everyday, and yet still feel she was safe at Hogwarts. She had driven him crazy that summer, and had pestered Ron until she had showed up at Privet Drive, at Godric's Hollow, everywhere. She did not try to approach him romantically, but she refused to be left out, despite his vociferous protests. He had to say, that without her, they might not have found the two Horcrux they had. It had been Hermione her had figured out that RAB was Sirius' brother Regulus, much to the chagrin of Mrs. Black's portrait in the hall, who had aided in that particular discovery. It had been Fred and George who remembered that Muldungus Fletcher seemed to remove quite a bit of booty from the house the year previously after Sirius' death. But it had been Ginny's infamous Bat-Bogey Hex that had gotten Fletcher to tell them where the locket and the Hufflepuff cup had disappeared to.

She pushed one of the goblets toward him with deliberation, and then stared at it, and then back to her own. Something was definitely bothering her. She cleared her throat. "Any luck with the Ravenclaw thing?" Hermione had been certain that they were looking for an artifact of Rowena Ravenclaw. Ginny drank her cup down, draining it in one gulp.

"No, not yet. And no one has any plans for Nagini either." He reached for the cup.

She covered his hand with her own, almost knocking over the cup. "Stop, Harry." She blushed crimson. "I….don't drink it Harry. It's got a potion in it. I'm sorry."

He looked at the cup, and then at her. "What the…you drank yours."

She shook her head. "It won't work unless we both drink it."

He was intrigued. "What is it? A love potion?" _You know you don't need that, Gin, _he almost added.

"Not exactly." She blushed harder. "It…well, it's something to help us understand the other's feelings better."

"Oh." He was a bit lost, and he looked it.

"I need to know if…I hurt Harry." She stared down at the table. "It hurts so much to not know how you feel, to try and stay distant."

He couldn't stand to hurt her. He looked at the goblet. He grabbed it, and drank it down as she had, in one gulp. "I trust you, Gin." He looked at her, and she seemed shocked. A full minute passed, as they stared at each other. He could practically feel her breathe, he was so focused on her. They both leaned on the table, arms crossed in front of them, staring. She took a lock of her hair, and brushed her left arm. Unconsciously, he scratched the same spot on his own arm, which tickled as though she had brushed her hair over him. She smiled, a huge grin that light up her whole face and made her eyes sparkle.

"It worked!" She took out another vial from the pocket of her skirt, unstoppered it and drank down the contents, all under Harry's astonished gaze. "This will be fun."

Harry finally spoke, confusion writ on his face. "Do..do we have a long talk about our feelings or something?"

Ginny popped out of her chair, and before he could blink, she had climbed into his lap, straddling him and wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. "Not those kind of feelings, love." She kissed him, and he couldn't possibly protest. She tasted of pumpkin juice, a bit of the bitter potion she had swallowed, and something warm and wonderful and indefinably Ginny. He thought he would allow himself this one kiss, and then he would pull back, protect her, let her go again. But this kiss was amazing. Sensation flooded him, doubled in fact, as though he was experiencing two kisses at once. Her hands buried themselves in his hair, and he felt the pull on his skull, and his hands tickled as though he could feel the hair himself. He sucked on her lip, and he felt the pleasing fullness of her, and her enjoyment of the action. It was too good to give up.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her full against him, her breasts squashed against his chest through their shirts. God, but she felt good. He wished he could feel her against himself completely, skin to skin, but he pushed the thought away. Ron would kill him, if he didn't beat himself senseless for taking advantage of her.

She giggled, her laugh filling him with happiness. He broke away, "What kind of potion was that anyway?"

She looked suddenly serious. "Amora miratum. We feel what each other feels. That way, you know how much I want you," She ran a hand over one puckered nipple, and his own tightened in response, a flare of incredible feeling.

He closed his eyes, in agony over the opposing dictates of his body, his heart, and his mind. She continued her torture, unrepentant, "And I can know how much you want me." She pushed her hips against his, his arousal evident and straining within his ragged jeans. He whimpered with the sensation, and so did she. He clutched her to him, crushing her lips with his. He felt her hands dive under his T-shirt, her nails scraping along the skin of his back, and he pulsed with need for her. She moaned, and seemed terribly upset as she reached the limits the fabric would allow. She muttered something under her breath, which sounded to him like, "Divesto".

Suddenly, he was shocked by the incredibly warm sensation of his cock rubbing against her bare nether regions. His eyes flew open, and hers rounded in shock. "You're not wearing knickers!" he croaked.

"And you're not wearing anything!" she threw back at him impudently. He looked down, and was right. His clothes were neatly folded on the floor, but he was naked, head to toe. He flushed with embarrassment, and she ran her hands over his naked chest. It was a delightful sensation. She practically purred, "Besides, if a girl sets out to seduce the man she loves, it helps to make access as easy as possible." She twitched her hips experimentally.

He groaned. He had lost this battle, he could no longer fight. She was aroused as he, her labia parted and swollen, so his cock was soon rubbing against those damp folds. She panted, making little moans that sent desire ripping through him, and all the blood in his body seemed to pool in his rock hard member. He took his revenge, and though he did not hold his want, thought of how much he wanted her naked and tried out her incantation.

"Divesto." He muttered, and was rewarded instantly with the longed for sight of her high pert breasts naked before him, the tips of her long red hair caressing the edge of pink puckered nipples.

She gasped, and her hands reflexively reached up to cover her breasts, regardless of the enticing sights of the red curls of her mons entwined with his black hair where their bodies touched.

_Merlin, I love this woman_, he thought. _I've got to stop, I don't want to hurt her._ She smiled, and let her hands drop, revealing those beautiful orbs to his rapturous gaze once again.

"I love you too, Harry Potter, you great, overly noble prat. You can't hurt me if you simply let us be together."

"You heard me? What I was thinking?" His mouth gaped.

"Perhaps this potion has some interesting side effects." She closed her eyes. "What am I thinking?"

His jaw grew slack at the vision that filled his head. He could do nothing but obey, bending his head to her breast and kissing the tip lightly. _Holy Merlin, that felt good._

In response to desire, whether hers or his, he lost track, he pulled her nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. Her groaned, and her head lolled back. Her hips bucked against his, and he felt the tip of his cock press against a hard, swollen nub of flesh. They both gasped at the contact.

Ginny moved her hips back and forth, and each brush against her clit set electric sparks through them both. His mind emptied, his every thought centered on the contact between their bodies, his lips on her breast. So he was startled when a thought flashed through his mind, _This feels so much better than when I do it myself_. An image of Ginny's nimble figures stroking herself as she thought of him sent a shockwave of pure lust through him, so much that he bit her. She moaned loudly in pleasure, and he let go, looking up into her face. Her eyes were wide and she flushed in embarrassment as she realized he knew what she had been thinking.

He gave her a devilish smile, and brought up a memory of him standing in the shower, one hand against the tile and the other wrapped around himself as he whispered her name repeatedly. Her mouth formed a shocked "o", and he moved his hips ever so slightly, bringing her mind back to the incredible pleasure they shared. She thrust against him, rocking back and forth, slick with wetness and need, and the sensations built to an incredible height. They panted together, the sound of their breathing louder than the rumble of the Hogwarts Express.

It was amazing, but he felt an overwhelming need to feel her wet warmth engulf him. At the same time, he sensed her own desire to be filled, to have him completely within her. Logic fled, and passion dictated as he pushed forward and she curled her hips just so. He thrust home, deep within her, and the immense pleasure was doused with a sudden sharp pain. Sanity returned, and he realized what he had done.

"Oh God, Ginny!" He lifted off the chair, his hands on her bum. He set her down on the bed that the table had become, this being the Room of Requirement, and withdrew from her, horrified that he had hurt her, that he had taken her virginity. She looked up at him with passion glazed eyes, anger evident in her face.

"Harry! What in Godric's name are you doing!"

"I'm so sorry." He kneeled on the soft carpet on the ground, and held his head in his hands.

She sat up, and leaned over the edge of the bed, looking down on him. "Harry, it wasn't that bad. Do I hurt anymore?"

He stopped the train of self-hating thoughts swirling in his brain, and considered. There was a dull throbbing in his groin, but there wasn't really pain.

_I need you Harry_. The thought filled his mind. And it was the truth. She did need him, he felt it so strongly he ached. And he realized, he needed her. More than his body needed her, his heart, his soul needed her like he needed breath. She made him feel stronger, more whole. Only with her did he not torture himself with the consequences of failure, did he believe he might win. He had thought that she was a distraction, that he would work better without worrying about her, but he knew he was wrong. He was at his best with her by his side.

She smiled, and beckoned him onto the bed. He returned the smile, and the lust he had felt a minute ago returned full force, as he looked at her gloriously naked body lying on the silk sheets. Gone was the room of books, the cabinet to Grimmauld and the door back to Hogwarts. Here there was nothing but them and the bed, a soft light filling the room, the smell of roses in the air.

With a thought, a small table and basin of water appeared next to the bed and he stood, wetting a washcloth as she looked on bemusedly. He knelt next to her, and bent over the woman he loved. She shuddered as he touched the cloth to her upper thighs, washing the smear of blood he found there. She took the cloth from him, and ran it over his length, the cool roughness of the terrycloth and the touch of her hands causing the blood to pulse visibly through his penis. One hand braced on the side of her hip, and he touched one finger to the pink folds of her sex, the sensation of her returning arousal filling him with the need to return to her.

At her unvoiced desire, he bent down, and flicked his tongue against the swollen nub of her clit, reveling in her gasp and the fire that pounded in him as her felt her pleasure. She was wet and sweet, and he lapped at her, filling himself with her taste and smell, her sensations mirrored back at him so his untutored enthusiasm was coached by direct knowledge of what caused the most pleasure. She writhed beneath him, and as the thought entered his head, she had maneuvered herself between his knees, and her hand gripped his shaft, her lips closing over the tip of his sex. His hips bucked in reaction and she giggled against him. _Continue your previous occupation, please_, she asked with a thought, her mouth too full of him to speak.

He obeyed with alacrity, though he could hardly think with her tongue doing amazing things to him. After a few stray licked, she had managed to figure out exactly what caused him the most pleasure, and they settled down into a pattern of licks and sucks, moans and frantic gasps until they both came with tremendous force, the force of both their orgasms multiplied, her wetness flooding his face and his semen filling her eager mouth. Wind howled through the room, and the table and basin had been knocked over by a wave of force, but neither noticed the crash.

Harry fell to his side, and Ginny flipped over, snuggling her naked body against his and tucking her head under his chin.

When each had enough brainpower to think and breath to speak, Harry quietly asked, "Amora miratum? I doubt Snape or Slughorn covered that his their classes?"

She punched his shoulder. "Hermione and I found it in a book during research. Some Italian wizard named Casanova wrote the recipe long ago."

"Really? Hermione?"

"She and Ron are probably similarly engaged at the moment. The potion took a week to brew, and we decided that now would be a good opportunity for seduction."

Harry blushed, and so did Ginny. They both laughed, and Harry enfolded her in his arms even tighter. "Did you know it would be this amazing?" he whispered.

"No." she said. "I didn't realize how much of each other we could feel. The translation was pretty bad, the Italian was really old, but Casanova, he said something like he had searched his whole life for his true love, and that he could feel almost nothing but a distant echo without that. He claimed that for those truly in love, they would feel everything the other felt. I didn't realize that would extend to hearing each other's thoughts."

"He was right, I can feel everything." His hand caressed her bare arm. Her skin felt better than the silk sheets beneath him, and the countless tiny freckles her saw sprinkle across her pale skin intrigued him. He wanted to find each and every one and kiss it. She giggled, and gave his cheek a peck. As she moved, her breast rubbed against his chest, and he felt his own body's awareness of that novelty and her own reaction, the subtle puckering of the skin with friction.

He wanted her again, he wanted to be inside her again, to feel the walls of her tight vagina that had filled him with such bliss the moment before he had torn through her hymen. His cock was already filling again, and he felt guilt flood him, but Ginny would have none of that. He could feel her subtle chastisement as she pulled him over her, locking her lips with his. _I want you too, silly boy. I'm yours, I always have been._

_I love you so much, _he thought. His penis nestled against her again, and he could taste himself on her lips, as she could taste herself. She wrapped her legs around him. With one last second of sanity, an uncomfortable thought intruded.

"Ah, Ginny, um…could you, do you, umm…." He didn't know how to ask.

Fortunately, she could read his mind. "You know that other potion I took, after the pumpkin juice?" He nodded, "It's a contraceptive. Good for a whole month."

"Thank Merlin." He kissed her, and then reared back. They both used there hands to guide him into her opening, and he slide forward as slowly as he could stand, waiting for their mutual discomfort. But there was none, only immense pleasure. When he was inside completely, they both let out held breaths, and laughed at themselves. She arched against him, and he shuddered, the bizarre feeling of filling and being filled at the same time almost more than he could stand. He withdrew slightly and thrust again, and they both moaned in rapture. First slowly and then with increasing speed, they moved together in search of another round of mutual fulfillment. Ginny began to sing a long keening scream as her orgasm built, and when it crashed over them both, Harry roared and Ginny yelled, and it went on and on, ricocheting between them like waves in a pond.

When thought returned, Ginny noticed that they were levitating, above the bed, the sheets blown about in disarray. She let out a little hoarse screech and they landed back on the bed with a pleasant thump that wrung just the tiniest bit of leftover sensation from them with a groan.

They both laughed again, the chuckles rippling through them were they were still one. Harry pushed himself up on his elbows and gazed into Ginny's face. "You are the most amazing, incredible, beautiful woman in the world."

She blushed. "And you are the best, the most magnificent man." She giggled again, "And quite a good lover, although I haven't any experience to compare to."

He growled, "And you won't, not with anyone else if I have a say in the matter."

She kissed the tip of his nose. "How do you suppose we managed to levitate like that?"

He gave it some thought. "I don't know. Gosh, we even knocked over the table, the sheets….that must have been some wind we called up." He remembered something, "And how did you get my clothes off in the first place? Neither of us used a wand."

"I don't know."

It was hard to think about serious matters, not when she looked so incredibly kissable. He wanted to stay in this bed for the next year, but he knew it was impossible. They needed to eat. His stomach rumbled.

Ginny rolled her eyes, "You're as bad as Ron."

He paled slightly. "He's going to kill me, you know. Him and your other five brothers."

"Don't worry, dear, we can take them." She kissed him, and he forgot all about Ron, at least until pain shot through his scar, a pain he had not felt in almost a year.

Ginny let out a little scream, and wrapped her arms around him, and suddenly it was better, though her face was clenched with pain too. He fought back, using the little Occulmency that he remember, and remarkably, it worked. He felt her strength combine with his, and Voldemort was pushed away, far away, as he had never been able to do before.

He looked into her eyes, and he knew that this was vital. Together, they could fight better than he could alone.


	3. Tonks and Remus

Thanks to the news reviewers. I appreciate all comments.

Now time for things from a woman's perspective. I don't know why I keep writing from the man's view in these. I suppose it's a repressed desire to know what my husband is thinking. Anyway, I love Tonks, so I just have to embody her for a bit.

Nymphadora Tonks, her hair a strict black in keeping with her attempt at projecting a mature image, looked over the two silent girls sitting in front of her on the couch. Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger both had excellent reasons to be embarassed, given the things Tonks had witnessed in the past week.

Five days previously, she had walked into the second floor hallway to find Remus frozen in front of a door, a look of horrified amusement on his face. When she reached him, it began evident why.

"Oh Ron. Gods, Ronnnnnnnnnnnn…" A long husky scream came tumbling out the door, and Remus had managed a tolerable blush.

Tonks chuckled. "Looks like Hermione has…relaxed a bit in the last few weeks." She knocked loudly on the door.

Silence. "Wotcher Ron. I think you might want to ask someone about a permanent silencing charm on this room. Everyone would get a lot more sleep."

She pulled a shocked Remus after her, down the hall to their own room.

But that was nothing compared to last night. She, in her usual bumbling way, had managed to make a wrong turn while going to the kitchen for a late night cup of tea. Remus was in the basement, since it was a full moon, and she was alone, aching that she could do nothing but wait through his suffering. He refused to touch her, frankly, even to be near her for a week before the full moon, and afterward he was a wreck, hollow and drawn. She had entered a ballroom instead, a huge room that the younger members of the Order had turned into a practice room of sorts. Cursing quietly at her ridiculous affliction, she made to leave, but was halted at the odd sight of clothes strewn haphazardly over the floor. A tinkle of crystal and a low husky laugh caused her to look upward. She was stopped dead at the site of Ginny Weasley, completely naked and hanging from the chandelier, her legs wrapped around Harry Potter, who was also starkers. The fact that they were fifteen feet off the ground was simply an added shock. She shut her eyes, and planned on making a graceful, silent exit, as the pair was a little busy to have noticed her entrance. But, of course, she tripped, knocking over a vase, and raising a scream from Ginny. Tonks had managed an exit, after hearing the two fall unceremoniously to the floor. She hoped they hadn't broken any bones.

Ginny and Hermione looked at each other. Hermione let out a big sigh, and dove in, "Miss Tonks."

"Just Tonks is fine, love."

"Tonks…Ginny and I, well, and Harry and Ron…we…well…"

Tonks furrowed her brow, "I'm, not sure I really want to know this."

Hermione and Ginny blushed. Although not a redhead, Hermione managed enough color to qualify her for the Weasley-dom that she would no doubt attain soon.

Hermione went on. "No, we've got to say…we've discovered something rather important, a weapon of sorts, and we feel we've got to tell the Order before anyone else gets hurt."

Tonks winced. Kingsley was in St. Mungo's, his wounds severe. "Go on."

"Well, Ginny and I found an old book in the Room of Requirement."

"Ah ha!" Tonks exclaimed. "I'd wondered how Ginny managed to get here." Ginny blushed again, and looked at the floor.

Hermione rushed on, "To make a long story short, we found a potion." She held up a vial. "Amora miratum. It does remarkable things as its intended use, and it had the most amazing side effects."

Ginny piped up, "It can allow you to combine powers, magnify powers even, with…with someone you love."

Tonks was taken aback. "Explain please." It was her best McGonagall impression.

"Well, once the potion is taken, triggered really, it binds you to someone who is close to you." Hermione swallowed nervously. "Your true love. You share each others thoughts, and under the even their sensations. It is possible when together to perform magic without wands."

Tonks blinked, and remained silent. This sounded crazy, like an article from the Quibbler or some such. Hermione seemed to understand, "I know it sounds farfetched, but we have done a lot of experiments in the past six weeks, and…"

"Oh, that I know about." Tonks grinned evilly. She couldn't resist the temptation. "I expect that you, Hermione, give Ron very **loud** praise in certain departments, and you Ginny, would give Harry **high** marks?"

The two girls hemmed and hawed, and looked anywhere but at her or each other.

"I really, really do not want to hear about my brother." Ginny muttered.

Hermione blushed again, and blew out a stream of air in exasperation, lifting her hair from her forehead. "Yes, well….the effect last after any….umm…intimate contact. Though it may require that to be triggered. I have a theory…."

"Hermione, get on with it!" Ginny whispered loudly.

"Oh…yes, umm….the experiments that we've done show that shield charms, cast in the presence of your…partner…are three times as strong. Five times if you are actually touching. Hexes are more effective. We're pretty sure Occulmency is much easier as well."

Ginny expanded, "And it's more than just that. In the presence of others you care about, family and friends and the like, the power is even stronger. If we all held hands, we could block some pretty remarkable things."

"Thanks for telling me, girls." Tonks nodded, still deep in thought. "I'm not sure how this will help, but I'm sure the Order would be interested." She smiled, "I suppose you came to me to have a proper cover for your discovery? I doubt you'd like for Molly to find out how this really came about."

"Eek!" Both girls looked very worried. Ginny shook her head emphatically. "Well, that and….well…there's another effect. One that Hermione thought you might be interested in personally. I…I'm a Parselmouth now."

"Excuse me?" Tonks was very confused. Very few people were Parselmouths, and most of those were in Slytherin. And it wasn't something that just suddenly appeared.

"Harry, Harry is a Parselmouth. After we…well, after the potion, I…I sort of took on his abilities."

Tonks nodded again. This was increasingly hard to believe. Hermione put a vial before her on the table, and explained. "You, you're a metamorphagus, you're really flexible, can undergo bodily changes at will. Professor Lupin is a werewolf, who has to go through painful transformations every month…"

Enlightenment dawned. "Merlin." Tonks whispered.

"I'm not sure what the effect on you would be…."

"I need to think." She stared at the vial. The two girls paused for a moment, then stood up to leave. Tonks came out of her reverie for a moment, "Thank you. I'll…I'll come up with a way to explain to the Order." The girls left, and the young woman remaining stared at the clear potion in the vial before her, weighing the consequences of its use.

With one last look in the mirror in her in Grimmauld, Nymphadora Tonks inspected her short pink hair (Remus's favorite), and black T-shirt, green mini-skirt and fishnet stockings. A muggle ensemble, true, but one that Tonks was comfortable in, especially as the late October weather was unseasonably warm. She spent so much time in her auror's robes, chasing this or that emergency, that she reveled in the chance to dress as she pleased.

More than three weeks had passed since Hermione and Ginny had given her the vial of potion. The full moon was in two days, and Remus was in hiding at his cottage in Scotland, with his usual series of ridiculous excuses. She hadn't seen him in ages, what with her constant patrols. She needed him, she had to see him.

She had convinced him to let them try to have a real relationship after Dumbledore's death. The weeks following had been amazing, and they had been a bright spot amidst the confusion and grief, a small beacon of hope for the others in the Order. Remus was incredible, kind and gentle. He was the first lover she'd had that had not requested something of her, a particular color hair, or bigger breasts, or longer legs. He was happy no matter what, he wanted her just as she was. Their first sexual encounter had been amazing. The man was an artist, and he played her like a fine instrument, wringing multiple climaxes from her with hands and lips and a rock hard member before finally allowing himself release.

In truth, it drove her mad. His control was extraordinary. He couldn't let go. She wanted, needed him to give himself over completely, to feel the wildness that ran in his blood. Then she would be sure, truly sure that he loved her, silly, young, clumsy Nymphadora Tonks, as desperately as she loved him. She drew a deep breath, and added Floo powder to the fireplace. "Lupin Cottage."

She tripped of course, and ash flew about her as she pulled herself off the carpet of the little house. It was a sweet little place, and she had loved it the first time she'd seen it. It was homey, though Remus insisted it was small and shabby. She could imagine raising a family here, herself and Remus and three kids around his big, scratched oaken table in the kitchen.

At her cough, Lupin appeared, wand ready, not expecting any visitors. At the sight of her, he dropped his wand, and his eyes darkened with some emotion, either passion or anger, she was unsure which.

"Nymphadora, what are you doing here?" His voice was gravelly, like it hadn't been used in days. He looked very good, more robust, more wildly handsome in the days just before the full moon. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself in his arms and snog him senseless, but she had ulterior motives for her arrival.

"Wotcher Remus. Just thought I'd come by to pay you a visit. I have a day's break, and I'm not on call. Thought I'd help with some research."

He breathed heavily, and looked extremely uncomfortable. He was so tense, she could sense it ten feet away. He had moved no closer. "I'm…I'm really rather busy right this moment."

She grit her teeth in frustration. "Surely, love, you can spare some time, even a few minutes just to chat? I miss you." Her mind filled with her love for him, and willed him to agree.

He shuffled his feet. "I suppose…but not too long, all right?"

"I'll just make some coffee then! I won't be a moment."

She ran past him into the kitchen, brushing his arm but managing not to trip again. She busied herself with the coffee, and broke a mug in the process, but repaired it quickly. Remus had fortunately not followed her, but sat in the sitting room, perched on a chair, still as stiff as a though he'd been hit by an Impediamentia.

She took out the vial, and unstoppered it, pour half in each of the two mugs, and tapping each with her wand to make sure it was cool enough to drink quickly. She planned to gulp hers down, and hoped Remus would do the same, his typically method of drinking coffee, when he preferred tea.

She brought out a tray, staring at her feet to make sure she didn't drop anything, and managed to set down the tray of a low table. She missed the chair as she sat back, but as long as the potion was intact, she didn't mind.

Remus looked at her with intensity she didn't quite understand, though her skin felt flushed. She tried to think of a topic of conversation, but her own nervousness got the better of her. She simply picked up her cup, and drank, praying that this wasn't the biggest mistake of her life.

He picked up his cup, still staring at her, and took a sip. "How have you been, then? How are Harry and everyone?"

She swallowed her coffee, which thankfully didn't come out her nose, and tried to restrain a blush. "Oh, Harry's doing quite well actually. Very well. He and the rest of the kids are deeply involved in some project or another. No doubt they'll manage to save the day again." She smiled.

He stared at her again, and gulped down all his coffee with a grimace. Then, he stared into the cup, and back at her. "What is this?" He sniffed, and she held her breath. "Nymphadora, his tone slightly menacing, "What did you put in my drink?"

"Don't you trust me?" She squeaked.

He rose up and towered over her, "What is it?"

"It's a new potion…Hermione came up with it…"

He looked disappointed, beaten. "It won't work, you know. I'm had every quack try and sell me something to fix my lycantropy. I'll always be a werewolf. I understand if you can't accept that."

Tonks rolled her eyes. "You great git. It's not that. It…I'm even entirely sure that it will work. If…I was told, that if you share the potion with your true lovet allows use to feel each others sensations, even thought. It even allows you to share, to share each others powers."

His eyes widened in alarm. "Merlin, Nymphadora, you can't…you foolish girl!" He yelled, "I've spent my whole life trying to not turn anyone else into a werewolf, and here you go trying to force me to turn the woman I love into one! What the bloody hell were you thinking!"

She leapt to her feet, anger surging through her, "It wasn't that, damn you. I'm not even sure that would cross over anyway, it's not the normal kind of magical power. I meant to give you my abilites, to make your transformations easier. To let me bloody see you for more than the two weeks you'll let me near you in the month."

She stormed out into the kitchen and stopped just inside the door. She could feel him come up behind her. They stood there in tense silence. Anger poured through her, but as the second ticked by, she could feel it change, morph into something else. Her stomach clenched with it, her blood pounded through her. Lust. Desire. Overwhelming need.

Her sense of smell became incredibly acute, and her nose was filled with an irresistible smell. It took every ounce of her strength to resist devouring it's source. What the hell was happening to her.

_Oh Godric, it's me_. _I feel what he feels. He wants me, it's my scent._ She panted in small breaths as the wanting enveloped her, her nipples puckered, her sex grew wet with her need for him. He stood there, just behind her, still battling to control himself.

She found her voice, though it was low and husky. "You know, I'm not a fragile little doll, Moony. I'm more flexible than most people, and stronger besides. Metamorphagus and all that. They were desperate for me to become an Auror, you know?"

Her arousal had increased the power of her scent tenfold, and he had ceased to process thought in words. He was hanging by the merest thread, and she would weld the knife to cut it.

She inched forward to the edge of the kitchen table, and bent over it, farther than necessary, to push the cracked flower vase which sat there to the other end. Her lovely little bum was raised at an enticing angle, and she knew the precise moment his control shattered.

There was an odd ripping sound, and then she found herself rammed face down into the table, her breasts pressed against the smooth surface, her hips against the table's edge. Her skirt was pushed up, and her fishnet stockings and thong were torn asunder with one rip, and not the least thought given to the use of magic. And then he was there, huge and hot, and he thrust into her with brutal force.

Never had the act of penetration given her such unbelievable pleasure. She was the possessed and the possessor all at once, and the wild, feral thrill of mating overtook her every thought. He plunged into her, fast and hard, gripping her hips with such force that it would leave bruises on a normal woman. She keened a long moan of ecstasy, and he let out a low growl in response. The angle of the table, her incredible wetness, his unrestrained need, all built too quickly into a storm of sensation that threatened to drowned her, she was so close. The wind whipping through the room, the sudden brightness of the fire in the room behind them when unnoticed. Suddenly, the need for complete possession swamped her, and he leaned forward, biting the back of her neck with his teeth, and with that burst of pleasure-pain she came and came and came. She let out a scream that became a howl, and he growled with unmatched ferocity. The wind howled with them, and the light in the room so bright it blinded her, and she was utterly lost in a whirl of incredible sensation.

When sanity returned, she was kneeling, straddling his bare legs, with Remus's left arm wrapped tightly around her, with him still embedded deep within her. Her head had fallen back to rest on his shoulder, and he gently stroked her hair, his breath a warm caress on her cheek.

She smiled, the immensely satisfied, feline smile of a woman who'd had her share of ultimate bliss. She spoke, her voice unsteady and hoarse after the intensity of her screams, "So, that's why you avoid me just before the moon."

"Yes. Your scent is irresistible." _It always has been_. She saw a flash of the first time he had seen her as an adult, when Moody had brought her to Grimmauld to see Sirius when he'd returned. When she walked into the room, tripping of course, her scent had reached him, and he had immediately responded, though she had been completely unaware of it.

She smiled, pleased that she had discombobulated him as much as his restrained wildness had bothered her. But she changed the subject. "If you ever do this with anyone else, I shall have to kill you both, you know."

"Wolves are monogamous, my love."

"Well, that's easy for me. You've spoiled me for anyone else, you have, being such a sex god." She could feel him thrum with pleasure at the complement. He was always worried that he was too old for her, and she could feel the same now. If he had any more energy or youth, then what she would have just experienced would have likely killed her.

She felt him flinch with the thought, agonizing that he had hurt her. She ground herself down on his softened cock, and purred. _Killed by pleasure, my beast_.

He gave a little growl, and she could feel him slightly harden within her. _I like your hair like this. _She pulled a strand in front of her face, was shocked. It was almost white now, barely pink, and much, much longer. She had not willed it to change, and it had never altered on its own before, unless she was very ill. She twisted as best she could to look at Remus in the face, and to her surprise his own hair had also grown, almost to his shoulders, and the grey had been leached out to blond, giving him an odd streaked look.

"You should have a look at yourself!" She giggled, and delighted at the shared sensations that generated between them.

"I have no desire to move." He throbbed, and grew harder, pressing against some spot within her that felt unearthly good. She panted, and he whispered in her ear. "Whatever is in that potion, Dora, I can't find it in me to object at the moment. We might regret it in two days, but now, I'd rather use my flagging energy for other things." His hand slipped under the hem of her T-shirt, and with a wrench it was torn from her body. She gasped, but couldn't object. _So that's what happened to his pants_.

He chuckled, and pulled her wand out of the pocket of her skirt, where it had thankfully not poked her during their previous activities. With a whispered, "Lacero" their remaining garments shredded, landing in piles on the floor.

"Humph, I liked that skirt." She rose suddenly, and he slipped out of her. She could fell his intense sense of loss, and then his humor return as she merely turned around, and impaled herself on him once more, much to their mutual delight.

He bent, and laved her breast with his tongue, the rasping sensation against her taut flesh. She buried her hands in this new, long hair of his, and found its heady masculine scent intoxicating to her heightened senses. She must have gotten a little bit of his wolfiness, though it was yet to be seen how much. She buckled against him, and they shared a gasp, and then it was another race as they crashed together to find mutual fulfillment. She rode him with abandon, bending backward to grasp her ankles for balance as he thrust into her hard, his bunching thighs straining between hers.

They came together again, the echoes of each other's orgasm driving them forward, and this time she fell backward, bumping her head on the table and collapsing on the floor, overflowing semen dripping from her. With the last of his strength, he climbed atop her, and she held him against her heart, his panting breaths fanning the sweat soaked skin of her breast.

"Ow!" He rubbed the back of his head when his breath had returned. "I suppose now I'll feel it whenever you have one of your accidents?"

"I'm not certain. They didn't say what the extent of the affect was…afterward."

"Just who gave this to you anyway? Not that I'm not grateful for the immediate effect."

She blushed. Even her hair turned pinker again. "You don't want to know."

But she forgot about their shared thought, and had not even contemplated Occulmency, auror though she was. "Hermione and Ginny!" He declared in a shocked voice.

She bit her lip, worried how he would react. He laughed, "I hope poor Molly doesn't find out. Both Ginny and Ron engaged in such activities would be a bit too much."

"I think the girls wanted us to take the blame…I mean the credit, for this little discovery."

"Well, I suppose I could have done some sort of research. I am helping Harry with a few things…" he broke off suddenly.

She frowned. "What's a Horcrux?"

He let out a sigh. "I think we'd better pay a visit to the new Marauders." He looked up, and the state of the room was a shambles. The vase Tonks had tried to protect had shattered against the far wall. Even the mugs in the other room were shattered. The table, though intact, was five feet from where it had started, he had drilled into her with such force. The wallpaper seemed to be bleached like their hair. In all it was a mess, a very strange mess.

He looked down at her. "And we'd better have another member of the Order there to make sure nothing happens to you at the full moon. I've no more Wolfsbane, what with Snape…." His mouth drew to a grim line.

She caressed the side of his face. "We have some time, love." She pulled his head toward her for a kiss. "Trouble will find us soon enough."

Thanks for all the reviews. I keep thinking this story gets buried, so if anyone has some advice so that it doesn't disappear so fast, I'd appreciate it.

I've had a great suggestion for pairing Snape with Narcissa Malfoy, so I've trying to work that in, although our poor potions master won't get to have fun with this particular potion for a while. He'll have to rely on his own skills in romance.

I invented the Amora potion as a conjecture over how a bunch of virgins might get to figure things out without a bunch of experience. I've had a great deal of fun thinking about it. Even my husband was titillated at the thought.

Any other suggestions for pairings, or requrests for more scenes. I don't mind doing more for RHr and HG, but I'd appreciate any ideas. Thanks for reading and please review!


	4. Refractory Period

Sorry folks, but porno is sacrificed to plot this chapter….

"Merlin! What time is it?" Ginny Weasley, her skin flushed a becoming shade of pink, sat up in bed suddenly. Her boyfriend, and lover of just over two months, Harry Potter, grumbled at the loss of her warmth against his side, and squinted at the clock, blind without his glasses. He fumbled for them, but Ginny had already realized the bed news.

"Eight already. Drat it! You just had to go and seduce me on a Friday night when I have a prefect's meeting." Ginny scrambled off the bed in a frantic search for her clothes, which were scattered around the floor. A single word might be able to remove their clothes, but this time, she and Harry had played an enjoyable game of striptease after she had arrived at Grimmauld after afternoon classes. Removing one article of clothing at a time the old-fashioned way had it's own sensual delights, but finding your knickers afterward was no easy feat, especially when in a hurry.

Harry, glasses donned, stooped to help, pulling one of her socks from under a dresser. She could not help but admire the curve of his derriere as he bent over. _Godric, but he was dead sexy_. She smiled wickedly, think of how very amazing her lover was, and how happy she was to know every inch of his skin, to be learning which touches could make him moan.

She snapped upward, and turned toward her, a heated look in his eye. _Be careful, Gin, or I'll never let you get to your meeting._ His thoughts were very dirty, and he was already half hard again. She blushed, and placed the slightest barrier over her mind, though it was not very effective against him. She had no idea why she should be embarrassed after all they had shared, and rushed to don her skirt and robes. He too began dressing. "Damn it, Ginny, I don't think I've ever envied Ron so much as I do now."

"Why?" She furrowed her brow in question.

"Because he has his love in bed with him all night, every night, and I can only steal a few hours with you here and there." He climbed up on the bed, and poked at the ceiling with his wand, checking reflexively on the box hidden their which contained the two Horcrux they had already found.

She rolled her eyes. "You are the one who didn't want me to join you. You wanted me to go back to Hogwarts." She opened the door as he hopped off the bed and jogged after her.

He sighed. They walked out in to the halls. "I know, I know. You're safer there. And you are very important there. How else would Hermione be able to try and brew that bloody potion if you didn't sneak into the potion stores? That and a hundred other things. We need you and the others there. But that doesn't mean I don't want you with me."

"Truly, I think I'm safest with you. And I'd rather be here. But the younger kids need Neville and I, there are so few people left in the school. And Snape's potion cabinets are coming in handy." She felt her mistake at mentioning the bastard's name. Harry had been nervous enough of late, what with Moody keeping tabs on Tonks in the attic and Remus in the basement as the full moon was tonight. He didn't need a reminder of the man he hated.

She felt the hatred flow off of him in waves. She stopped walking, and wrapped her arms around him, disregarding their presence in the hall. "Don't think about him Harry. We've got too much else to do." Harry had spent the first weeks after Dumbledore's death and his brief visit to the Dursley's obsessing over Snape. It had been completely unproductive. As it seemed that they two Horcrux they had were indestructible, and the two left either inaccessible or lost, Harry had fallen into a bit of a funk, relieved only by her presence. As their mastery of their newfound abilities, both magical and sexual became more firm, more of his mind strayed to his burning hatred of the man who he had witnessed killing his mentor.

"I know Gin. But hate is a difficult thing to forget." He resumed their walk.

She nodded and followed. "Love is stronger, Harry."

He smiled. "I know. That's what Dumbledore said." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I suppose that's what he meant. That's what I have, that he doesn't. The Amora certainly is not something Voldemort could use."

She wanted to ask more, but she was late, and the cabinet was here. She looked into the green eyes she loved so much. "I love you. I miss you. I'll be back tomorrow. Send Hedwig or Dobby if there's any news of Moony or Tonks."

"I will." He gave her a chaste kiss, but she pulled him in for a more thorough snog, then spun and crawled through the cabinet, his grumble following her as she laughed.

She opened the cupboard doors leading to the Room of Requirement to a very interesting sight. Luna Lovegood, Ginny's friend and a Ravenclaw, who should also have been at the prefect's meeting, was straddling the lap of Neville Longbottom, who should have been leading the prefect's meeting, as he was Head Boy. They were engaged in a passionate kiss, something she never would have imagined for Neville and Luna. Neville's hand was trapped under Luna's robes, and her hands were buried in his hair. Ginny could not suppress her snort of laughter, and the two did their best to jump apart, Luna almost falling over backward.

"Well, at least I won't be the only one who's late to the meeting." Neville blushed, and Luna looked more dreamy than usual.

"We were, well…we were…" Neville hadn't stuttered in an age, but his tongue wouldn't cooperate, at least to speak.

"He had a snydle in his eye, and I was just looking…" Luna was also searching for a good reason to be in such a position.

"It's all right, you two. I've known you fancied each other. You don't have to cover it up." She looked thoughtful. "In fact, I might have an interesting proposition for you later. But we do have a prefects' meeting."

Harry was at a loss as to what to do after escorting Ginny back. He was in a foul mood, but uncharacteristically he didn't want to be alone to mull over ways to make Snape suffer. He went to the first floor, and found Ron and Hermione instead.

They had turned the servant's kitchen that the House-elves had used into a potion lab of sorts, and sent Dobby to work in the main kitchen, though Hermione skill griped about it occasionally. This night found Hermione in a dragon skin apron and gloves that Charlie had sent on request, and Ron at the ready with his Amora-enhanced shielding charms, as Hermione prepared to add five drops of Lethifold excretions. As Harry opened the door, both Ron and Hermione hissed at him, and he shut it quickly, waiting outside. The door shook, and then was flung open, and Ron and Hermione dashed out, coughing at the toxic fumes followed them into the hall.

Harry shook his head in exasperation. "It's hopeless, you two. Everything we've tried is too weak. If we only do it half-way, who know if He could sense it's loss or if the soul would just move to another object."

Hermione plopped into a chair, a look of exhaustion on her face. Ron stood behind her, kneading her shoulders, and she reached up a hand to touch his in gratitude. "We've got to try Harry. There's got to be a way of destroying the things without the kind of damage Dumble…" Harry still winced, even after five months. "What he suffered. You destroyed the diary with the basilisk tooth. It has to be possible, I just don't know enough." That was not easy for Hermione to admit.

Ron stroked her hair, "You are still the smartest witch of the age, love. I bet McGonagall would rather have you teaching potions this year than old Slughorn."

"I'm not a potions master, Ron. I'll never even get my N.E.W.T. in it." More than any of the three, Hermione missed school, and worried over the lack of credentials. But they needed the time to research, to find the blasted Horcrux from Ravenclaw, something to kill Nagini, and a method to destroy the other Horcrux they did have.

Harry whispered, but both Ron and Hermione still heard. "We need Snape."

Thanks so much to all the reviewers. You all have such great suggestions and comments. I've got a Snape/Narcissa, Neville/Luna, and Fleur/Bill chapter in the works, although they may not be as detailed as some, since I don't "know" them as well.

Sorry about the lack of action in this chapter, but I had to put in some plot, and I've been busy trying to get off letters to find an agent for my manuscript. I write this fanfic to get out some of my erotic impulses so my novel isn't overly lascivious. Wish me luck on getting published!

Next chapter, Where is Snape?


	5. Snape and Cissy

Thanks to all new reviewers, and all the old ones who are still with me. I'm trying to incorporate all the excellent suggestions I've gotten, and here's Snape and Cissy. I'm working on Neville/Luna, Bill/Fleur, and a few brief scenes for Ron/Hermione and Harry/Ginny. I'm also bringing in an OC for Draco, Ixchel.

I'm thinking about a possible resurrection of one of my favorites, Sirius, though I understand if people object. I have in mind a partner for him, so if anyone if interested, I would appreciate your thoughts on whether to include a Sirius subplot or not. Thanks and enjoy! P.S. Still looking for a beta!

The white haired man, shrunken and pale, his eyes aching hollows, called out to him, beseeching him to help. "Severus, please…."

The red-haired witch stood alert, her green eyes wide open in alarm, guarding a crib against an approaching monster. She glanced at him as he stood frozen, an observer to a scene he had not witnessed in person. She whispered, in a voice hopeless and sorrowful, "Severus, please…."

_Crack_. With a thud, the thin, black-haired woman landed on the floor, and backed away on her hands from the drunken brute whose slap had put her there. She looked up at the stairs, and saw the small boy watching, terrified. "Severus, please..."

_Crack_. With a thud, the tall blond woman was thrown back against the wall, and she clutched her swollen abdomen protectively. She looked away from the icy blond man who had struck her, and toward the observer, again frozen at the scene. "Severus, please…."

Severus Snape snapped open his eyes with a curse, and tried to rise, though his body ached in protest. He lay on the pallet, closing his eyes again. It was utterly dark in the hut, the only noise the sound of insects trying to break through the shields on the door and windows. The heat was intense, the humidity immense, as though one were in the midst of a permanent rain shower.

He had forgotten the Dreamless Sleep, for the first time in a long time. He had been to tired. Sleep was to be avoided at all costs regardless, he had too much to do. After having sent the damned poison with macaw off to the dratted boy, hoping at least the Insufferable-Know-It-All would be able to figure out its use, he had gone to his hut, and exhaustion had overtook him.

Memories assaulted him in the dark. Bitter memories that accused and taunted him. In his thirty-odd years, there had been only four people he loved. One was dead because he'd ever been born, one was dead by his negligence, one was dead by his own hand, and the last had suffered for 17 years, more really, because he didn't have the courage before then to rescue her. His mother had died because of his father's endless abuse had sapped her will to live. Lily had died because he had brought the prophecy to his Master. Albus, Albus had begged him to kill him, begged him because he was already dying, begged him to save the boy. He knew he would be hunted, hated.

He had run. Albus had given him a plan, should it come to pass that he must be killed to satisfy the Unbreakable Vow. Snape hadn't wanted to listen, but Albus had given him no choice. Snape had taken Draco, who was still in shock, and Apparated to Malfoy Manor. Narcissa had been there, waiting nervously for news of her son. She had taken one look at them, and she had come, no questions asked.

Bellatrix would reveal all to the Dark Lord, that was certain. Snape might have been rewarded, but Draco would be tortured or killed. Narcissa, she would have been dead that very night. They had Apparated to countless locals, making a trail across Europe that would be nigh on impossible to trace. Until they had Apparated to the one place no wizard, even the most cunning, was likely to look. Heathrow Airport.

The plane ride had been long, and Draco, his hair black now, had stared out the window at the clouds, and had not said a word. Narcissa had always had the most amazing talent for glamours, and her own hair was short and ginger-colored. Perhaps the Metamorphagus skill in her young niece Nymphadora was somehow manifest. Narcissa had not spoken, simply stroked her son's hair through most of the hours long flight. He himself had watched the two, and tried not to think that the man he had loved with such fierceness was dead, and by his own hand.

It was obvious now, now with the darker hair. Draco had spoken very little to him in the five months they had spent in the Amazon. He had seemed to withdraw from the world, doing nothing for weeks, until, with black hair and darkened skin, he had joined the young men and women of the village, and had begun to learn what he could of hunting, of stalking in the forest. Snape didn't think Draco had done any magic at all in five months. It was a problem, but Snape could not spare the energy to think of it.

The village, Ch'en Itza was a special place, in the most isolated part of the forest, unknown to Muggles and hidden from their satellites. It had been a refuge for Maya wizards fleeing the dark magic of the Inquisition, and they had traveled two thousand miles from home in order to set up a legendary center of learning. Albus Dumbledore had been the first English wizard to find the place, and he had sent a broken Severus Snape their to mend once before, after Lily Potter had died, and her son had made the Dark Lord fall. The three of them had traveled for days, from airport to train to ferry, always with non-Magical means, until the had started into the deep jungle by canoe. Narcissa and Draco flinched the first time the canoe had risen up through the canopy of trees when the waterway became impassable, but soon become used to the novel form of travel.

Finally, exhausted physical and mentally, they had arrived before the great pyramid of Itzamna, rising through the jungle like a red mountain. Snape had walked forward, and bowed to the great Ahau Xiu, the Lord of Ch'en Itza. "We request sanctuary, oh Great One."

Xiu, was older than seemed possible, his wrinkles etched deep within his face; his white robes falling in folds around his shrunken body, held in place by the jaguar skin pelt of office, which rolled its feline eyes at the three strangers with an appraising look. The ancient man had smiled sadly. "Then Bright Eyes has passed, Grey One, as he foretold?"

Snape had closed his eyes with pain. "Dumbledore…Bright Eyes, has left us, at my hand, as he foretold."

Xiu regarded Draco, who had stiffened with Dumbledore's name, and refused to raise his eyes. "And you have saved this boy, Grey One?"

Snape nodded. "And his mother."

Xiu had looked at Narcissa, and returned his gaze to Snape. "What of Stricken Dog? Did his pain ever ease?"

Snape clenched his jaw. Not even in death could Sirius Black not torment him. "He has died. Gone beyond the Veil."

Xiu was still for a moment, communing with what, Snape had known not. "The Veil does not always mean death, Grey One. Only waiting."

Xiu had had them shown quarters. Snape had seen little of Draco and Narcissa since then. He buried himself in work. Here, he had access to ingredients impossible to get in England. He had sacrificed everything to come here, to protect Draco and Narcissa. He might have been able to turn Voldemort's anger at Draco into some kind of advantage for himself, but he was not willing to risk that much. Instead he was trapped here, halfway round the world without any news of events in the wizarding world, for the first time free of Voldemort and Dumbledore both.

But he had not been idle. Albus had been wounded badly in destroying the Marvolo ring. Something, something capable of sapping the soul from a Horcrux, must be developed. And if Dumbledore had been right, if Nagini had been made a living talisman for the Dark Lord's survival, then it would take a dire poison indeed to kill the monster. After five months, he was close to the Horcrux potion, and he had sent the poison off this morning to the damnable Potter, if the idiot was still alive to need it.

There was a noise, so slight that no one but a man who had been a spy for both sides of a war would notice it. He sat up, alarmed, grabbing for his little used wand. "Who there!" Snape said in the little Quiche language he had picked up while there.

"Cissy, Severus. Only Cissy." She walked into the little bit of light that filtered in the door. Snape had no idea how long she had been standing there, watching him sleep. Her face as unreadable in the low light, but his acute nose could smell her, the subtle scent that he had tried his best to forget for more than 18 years.

His first memory of Narcissa Black had been when he was first seated at the Slytherin table, so many years ago. She had been beautiful, ethereally beautiful, and icy cold. A fourth year, she sat, unattainable, next to the king of the table, Lucius Malfoy, a sixth year who ruled the house with an iron hand. Their marriage had been arranged whilst they were both infants, a perfect pureblood union. No boy had dared to even look at Narcissa, though Snape had stared at her in awe and fear when he had sat down, before one of the old boys had kicked him under the table. The tiny smile she had gifted him, almost so subtle he had imagined it, had fed his fantasies for years.

He had loved two women, craved them, and both of them had been untouchable. Lily Potter had been all that was good and noble and kind, a light shining from her that was too strong for him not to adore. But she was not for him, and he knew it. James Potter, the brave, the bratty, the perfect James Potter had claimed her, long before she would even acknowledge it. Narcissa Black, destined to be a Malfoy for her entire life, was the paragon of untouchable beauty, power and pureblood status that a tormented half-blood in Slytherin could only dream of. She was the queen to Malfoy's king, though she was already too old for his tastes by his seventh, her fifth year. Malfoy had simply chuckled when the sad announcement had been made that a first-year Hufflepuff had jumped to her death from the Astronomy tower. There were those in Slytherin who had their suspicions that Malfoy had been involved, but no one said a word. They were all very well trained.

Perhaps it was knowing that he would be close to Narcissa as he could never be to Lily that was the subtle deciding push on the scales of his decision to be a Death Eater after Hogwarts. His brilliance had been useful to the Dark Lord, even if he still had to endure the sneers of people like Malfoy and Narcissa's sister Bellatrix. He did not want to think about the number of people, both magical and non-magical, who had been harmed through potions he helped to invent. And he had reveled in the power, the sense of revenge again a world that had not treated him kindly.

He knew, after two years, that Malfoy beat his wife, but it had never been in front of him. Malfoy seemed to treat him as a kind of pet sometimes, a half-blood performing monkey. He even stayed in Malfoy Manor from time to time. One such time, some two and a half years before Voldemort's fall, Malfoy had left, off on a mission or torture for their Master, or of indulging in his own sick pleasures. There had been a knock at his door, and Narcissa had stood there, as she stood now, as though waiting for something.

Back then, so many years ago, he had done the unthinkable, he had reached out and touched her face, which sported a fresh bruise that she had not covered up with her many glamours. She melted, falling into his arms. He had closed the door, and set up warding spells to keep the house-elves and others away. And he had worshiped her.

She had never had anyone touch her with affection, so even in his inexperience way, he taught her that pleasure existed, that there was more than the brutality she suffered with Lucius as he tried, and failed, to beget a pureblood heir to the Malfoy name. In the morning, she had disappeared, leaving him questioning everything, including his allegiances. He almost wondered if he had dreamed the entire thing. He wondered if he was dreaming now.

She took a step closer, her hair, now a deep mahogany, blew in the slight breeze. "Severus," she whispered. In the months she had been here, she too had barely seen him, barely looked at him. She had sat staring into space, spending time with her son, or, gradually, she had begun to smile and talk halting Quiche to the women who gathered to cook in the large communal kitchens in the main square. He had watched her, unobserved, and he had remembered how much he had wanted her. How much he still wanted her.

"Narcissa." He whispered back, his wanting could not be kept from being heard. "Where's Draco? Is something wrong?"

"Draco is off with Ixchel, running in the woods. He'll be gone for days." She said no more, merely waited. Snape did not dare to hope that she was here for him. The disappointment would be too great. She knelt on the floor, only a few feet away, and yet still untouchable, unreachable.

She stared at him, her eyes intense and palest grey, like storm clouds. "Our son is happy with her, Severus. I think she has let him heal. Her great-grandfather has told me it is her power, to heal." He closed his eyes. It was the first time she had ever admitted what he had known for years. Draco was his son.

For Draco, and for Narcissa, he had made the most radical changes of his life. When Narcissa was seven months pregnant, he had witnessed Malfoy strike her with enough force that she had almost had a concussion. The image was too close to the way his father had beaten his mother. He had admitted to himself finally that the Death Eaters were not fighting for some pureblood cause, for a stronger wizarding society. They were simply evil. And so, for this child, who might be his, or at least could have been, he when to Dumbledore, and offered to spy.

Little had he known that with his revelation of that blasted prophecy, he had both condemned Lily Potter, and Lord Voldemort. But Lucius had escaped, after the fall of the Dark Lord, and the blond boy had been raised to emulate his evil father, and Narcissa had become an icy shell. Until she had risked everything to ensure that her son would not die, that Snape would protect him with his life. Snape had known then that Draco was likely his son, and the first time the glamour of his white-blond hair had been removed, the truth had been revealed.

"And you, Cissy? Have you healed?" Her scars were greater than Draco's. greater even than his own. She had had to live with a monster for so many years.

"Not completely, Severus. I need to remember." She moved closer.

"To remember?" He could not stop his hand from rising, to touch her face, still unlined and lovely, as he had so many years ago.

She trapped his hand with her own. "This. To be loved. To be cherished. To be me, not what I'm expected to be."

And then, there were no more words. She turned her head, and kissed his palm. He did not dare move, fearing to break whatever spell had called her to him when he needed her so very much. She bent forward, and touched her lips to his, and he sighed. His hands wrapped around her lightly, gently, as though she would break.

The kiss deepened, and he groaned with his need for her, need suppressed, altered, dampened with other women, paid companions, that could never match the real thing. She lay atop him, and he let her lead, knowing that she needed this, to be in control, after having no control in her life. He needed nothing but her.

Her hands, long and perfect fingers grown browner in the tropical sun, worked their way down his body, loosening the buttons on the black shirt he still wore, despite the unwavering heat. She placed kisses down his chest, and he buried his hands in her hair. Though a different color, the long strands still felt like the finest silk, still smelled like some unidentifiable mix of flowers that was Narcissa.

She moved back up to his lips, and her hands reached behind her neck for something, he didn't know what. She sat up, supported on his upper thighs, his erection straining against her through his pants. Her hands fell to her sides, releasing the ties of her garment, which fell forward, revealing beautiful breasts. He gasped drinking in the sight of the pale bounty before him. His hand reached up to brush against her, but he stopped, and looked up into her eyes.

She was unreadable, but she nodded, and with the softest touch, his calloused fingers brushed against the side of her breast, bringing shivers. His fingertips grazed along each breast, meeting each nipple with infinite tenderness, infinite patience that he did not know he possessed. She whimpered, and his eyes shot again to hers, assuring himself that she wanted this, wanted him.

He saw hunger, insatiable hunger. Hunger for a lifetime of pleasure denied, happiness unattainable. She demanded it now. "Severus." It was not a request, it was a demand.

He pushed himself up on his elbows, taking a puckered nipple into his warm mouth. Her hands clutched his head to her, escape was impossible. She pushed her hips against his in time to the movements of his tongue, the gentle sucking pressure he applied. It was torture for him, but he deserved no better.

The other nipple received attention, and leaning as best he could on one elbow, his other hand traced its way along her thigh, finding the hem of the Maya wrap dress that Cissy had taken to wearing. He pulled the fabric up slowly, hoping that he wouldn't alarm her, but needed desperately to touch her, to assure himself that her body wanted this.

Soon enough, she had grabbed his hand, and thrust it between them, demanding that he touch her, that he bring her again to heights that she had only known with him. His fingers slipped between her folds, finding her warm and wet, his cock jumped at the knowledge. The back of his hand brushed against his arousal as his clever fingers found her clit, rubbing with unbearable gentleness that gifted him with her moan. The pad of his thumb stayed happy at this nub, while one finger and then two penetrated into her moist depths, and she bucked against him at the welcomed invasion. Suddenly, she reared back, and his stomach dropped at the thought she would run, would not let him give her the please he longed to, would not let him give somebody something other than pain.

But no, instead, she was tearing at the waistband of his loose pants, pulling, releasing him from his prison. He was still trapped, pants around his knees, as she gripped him and positioned herself over him, impaling herself on him.

"Cissy, let me…" She put a finger to his lips, and he watched, breathing heavily, as she began to move, to ride upon him, finding the rhythm and position that suited her best. She eyes closed, she searched for something, her bottom lips clenched between her teeth. Faster, harder. He could not help but raise his hips to meet hers, to help her somehow in her quest, he felt too much not to act. She was like fire. A burning, cleansing fire that he needed to go on, to burn the past to cinders and begin again.

She was there, and she keened the softest cry as she came, her muscles clenching around him, causing him to lose his precious control, to shatter and break as he had not allowed himself to do at any other time. He poured himself into her, his sorry, broken, double-crossing, half-blood self. This time, afterward, either he would be whole, or he would be nothing.


	6. More Gryffindor Four

Ok, more great reviews. Sorry this is all couples I've done before, but it's needed for plot. Besides, I just can't resist a little more Ron and Hermione time.

I'll try and get out another chapter this week, but I've got a ton of stuff to do.

Oh, to the person who offered to beta for me, I can't seem to contact you, so I'm sorry you don't get this first. I'll try another permutation of your email soon.

_I may not be Snape, but I the best we've got, damn it._ Hermione Granger scrubbed at the burnt cauldron with a viciousness born of frustration and anger. She had been brewing and mixing for months. She'd read every damn book she could find from the Room of Requirement, and some of the darker books from the Black library that hadn't been tossed. She'd gone beyond either Lupin's or Hestia Jones' ability at potions, and she could pass her potion NEWT's without even trying, but it wasn't enough for Harry. The fight had been brief, but intense.

"What do you mean, capture him and put him under Imperious or something?" Ron had said, perplexed at Harry's mention of Snape.

Hermione had rolled her eyes. "Ah, yes, that will work out. 'Please, Professor Snape sir, won't you be kind enough to invent a potion to melt a bit of the Dark Lord's soul.'"

Harry had exploded, "I DON'T RUDDY KNOW! But we've got to find something, and quickly. Voldemort isn't waiting around for us to finish. What we've been doing isn't good enough."

He'd stormed off, and Hermione had been hurt, more that she had admitted out loud to Ron afterward. She did her best, and it wasn't good enough. Tears began to fall, and she felt Ron's long fingers stroke her hair.

"Love, the cleaning will wait 'til morning. You've got soot everywhere, and we won't get anything done tonight. Take a shower, and let's get some sleep." He pulled on her arm, and guided her up the stairs and into their bathroom. He left her there, and she shrugged out of her dirty clothes and turned on the water, letting the warmth sink into her.

She stared at the clean white tile in front of her, and remembered scrubbing it the summer before fifth year from the creeping filgimold that at engulfed the place. This had been Harry and Ron's bathroom, before Harry had taken Sirius' room, and she and Ron had started sharing instead. Of course, Mrs Weasley still thought Hermione slept peacefully in her own empty bed, thanks to an ingenious product of Fred and George's. After Tonks' gentle reminder, Ron had also equipped his room with a silencing charm that played a very convincing recording of his snores. Hermione smiled at the memory of the first night they had slept together for the whole night in the same bed, and having to poke Ron in the side to get him to shut up long enough for her to fall back to slept, only to find something else poking her in the lower abdomen. He had given her an evil smile, and neither of them got much sleep after than.

The shower door opened, and she started at the sound, but relaxed as she felt Ron's hands run up her back, his consciousness touch her lightly, seeking to know how she felt. His strong hands massaged their way to her shoulders, kneading away the tension locked there, and she gave a little purr of pleasure. What would she do without Ron? He worked every bit as hard as she did, helping her with her potion attempts, reading and studying by her side, though she knew he hated it. And this, knowing when she needed to be touched, to be reminded of joy.

She felt the stirrings of want, of her body's endless craving for him, and felt the subtle echo of his own desire. Though the effects of the Amora were weaker now, they were still their, and neither of them could lie with their bodies reactions anymore. When in physical contact, they could still feel each other's pleasures and pain.

He moved closer, and she could feel his arousal against her lower back, and she shivered with anticipation. His hands left her shoulders, disappearing for a moment, and returning to her body, lathered with soap, and he cupped her full breasts in his hands, pulling her hard against him as he washed her breasts, her torso, slipping fingers inside of her to caress her sex. She writhed against him, torturing him with the twitches of her backside against his erect phallus. He returned the torture, abandoning her clit and turning attention to her bedraggled brown hair, soaping it lovingly, and holding it out for the falling water to rinse. His fingers against her scalp were magic, easing away her tension and headache, leaving only intense desire.

She wanted him, now. She turned, and grasped his pulsing cock in her hand, the warm water acting as lubricant as she stroked him. He pushed her back against a tiled wall, muttering a quick "Adhaere" to ensure traction as he lifted her up, his hands under her rounded bum, and thrust into her. _God, that felt good_. He was tall and strong, and she wrapped her legs around him, moaning her pleasure as he pounded into her, driving out every worry, every thought, under the world was just him and her and the incredible pleasure that their joined bodies could make.

The water cascaded around them, through them, and the bathroom filled with steam as she lost herself, screaming his name as he slammed into her cervix, and she came strong enough to see stars. Her muscles clamped down with her orgasm, and he too exploded. When she descended, she blindly reached out a hand and turned off the water, and wrapped her arms around him, overwhelmed with the love she felt for this incredible man.

He could feel her devotion, as he felt the smile, and with a lopsided grin that she loved so much, he grabbed her to him once more, with him still inside her, and they managed a ridiculous, clumsy walk to the bedroom and the bed, where he dumped her, unceremoniously disengaging from her.

"Ron, we'll get the bed wet!" She popped up off the bed on to her elbows.

"Hmm…then I'll just have to dry us off. Time to try that bit of Transfiguration you were so keen on." She furrowed her brow, wondering what on earth he meant, and he whispered, "Lingua felinus". He pushed her down, and then he stuck out his tongue, lapping at the water drops on the side of the left breast.

_Holy Merlin_. His tongue was rough, like a cat's, and Hermione remembered weeks before mentioning the spell after reading a book on animagus transformation that she was she either Harry's father or Sirius had used back in the Marauder's days. But not like this! Ron's tongue dragged across her fevered skin, licking up all the traces of water, and she felt so on fire from the rough sandpaper texture that she thought she might burn him. She growled, and she arched up, willing him toward her nipples, and he obliged. The rasp of his tongue against that tender flesh sent lightening coursing through her and her hands ran through the longish red hair, gripping him to her as he continued his attentions.

She thought she would come solely from this incredible sensation, but she wanted to do some experimenting herself. "Lingua felinus", she whispered, and pushed at him, turning him over on his back and crawling on top of him. She too ran her new tongue over the muscles of his chest, delighting in the enhanced feeling of his slick skin and the taste of him. He panted as she flicked over his nipples and worked down over his stomach, running her fingers through the tight red curls at the base of his erection.

Her tongue stroked his shaft and he drew in a sharp breath through his teeth, which turned into a long groan as she reach the tip, the roughed texture of the cat tongue giving each lick of her tongue the impact of a dozen conventional ones. After only a minute of this treatment she knew he was close, and she was shocked as she felt him grip her hair, pulling her away from him. She gave a disappointed cry, but he flipped her on to her back, her head hitting the headboard, and pulled her knees over his shoulder, burying his face in her sex, his tongue unerringly finding her clit. With a few strokes of that amazing enhanced tongue, she banged her head against the wooden headboard again, arching the force of her orgasm. She was still shivering with it as he reared over her, plunging into her and driving her over the edge again with a few thrusts as he yelled and poured himself into her. She locked her ankles behind him, holding him to her tightly, awed that she could ever stand in the same room with Ron Weasley for more than two minutes without being naked and straining against him. Surely she was really an idiot if she ever wasted an opportunity to have him inside her.

He pulled out of her, and moved her down, holding her against him. She snuggled into his side, and breathed deeply, she loved the smell of him, the smell of them together. A yawn overtook her, and basking in the love she felt from him as he stroked her temple, she fell into a deep sleep, the worries of the day forgotten.

_Godric, she was beautiful when she slept._ He held Hermione in his arms, and watched her as she drifted into well deserved slumber. Completed unshielded, he had heard her thoughts, heard how she wanted him every waking moment. He felt the same, but he could not help the self-satisfied grin that he wore, pleased to no end that this incredible woman, the smartest, most beautiful witch he knew, had been so exhausted by the orgasms he had brought to her that she had fallen asleep within moments, despite her earlier anxiety.

_Curse Harry for a being a complete and utter prat._ He had no business insulting their efforts to come up with a way to destroy the damn Horcrux. He had problem run off somewhere to sulk, or to complain to Ginny, the great git. She was welcome to him.

He shook his head, remembering his very different thoughts the morning after their first carnal adventures. He had woken up alone, panicked that it had all been a dream until he'd found a note from Hermione saying she didn't want his mother to find them. He'd wanted to kiss her, wanted to reassure himself that she was his, so he was in a foul mood that he was alone. It grew even more as he remembered that Ginny had been with Harry, and he scrambled to put on his clothes and confront Harry. He threw open Harry's door, hoping at the last second that he wouldn't see his sister doing anything horrible, and he found Harry there, pacing the floor.

"Ron! I've got to tell you, something amazing happened. Voldemort tried to…."

"Cut it out, you wanker! Don't try any of that on me. I know what you were doing, you…you….seducer of innocents. Voldemort had nothing to do with it!"

Harry had looked at him wide-eyes, and turned a distinct shade of red. "Umm….umm…."

"What were you doing with my sister last night?"

"Umm…well…." Harry pulled on the collar of his T-shirt nervously, and ran a hand through his hair. "I assure you, Ron, that as soon as everything calms down I have every intention of marrying her, if she'll have me. If I'm alive."

Ron had opened his mouth to retort, then closed it suddenly. _I guess he's serious then_. "Well…still…you can't expect to keep doing that…thing, with her."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Well, Hermione doesn't have a brother to look after her, does she? What are your intentions with her then? Do you plan on not doing anything again?"

It was Ron's turn to blush. "Well…of course I'm going to marry her…if she'll take me…if I can ever work of the nerve to….but…but well, I don't think that it's quite the same."

"Yes it is." Hermione had called from the doorway.

Ron's eyes bugged out, he had turned slowly. "How long have you been there?"

She gave him the biggest, brightest smile. "Long enough." She had thrown her arms around him and kissed him, and both of them forgot about Harry for a minute as they recalled the amazing events of the previous night. The effects still lingered, as he could feel her nipples pucker in response to him, without even touching her.

Harry had cleared his throat, loudly. "I hate to bother you, as you look like you are having an excellent time, but something…odd happened, and it might be very important."

Hermione stepped back from Ron, and exhaled slowly. "Yes, we know. You can do wandless magic with the Amora. And that's why I'm afraid that you need to leave Harry and Ginny alone, Ronald." She stared at him meaningfully. "It just might help in the war."

Ron had grimaced. "But…grr…" He looked at Harry. "Remember, there's five more brothers that me, and if you hurt her, even Percy will wipe the floor with you."

Ron chuckled as he remembered the slightly green color that Harry had turned. Ron himself had grown accustomed, if not comfortable, with the fact that his baby sister was engaged in…mature activities with his best friend. And it was apparent that it was necessary. The four of them had shown increased powers, and such things might tip the balance in the war. Now, if only they could find the damned bit of Ravenclaw stuff and get rid of the rest of the blasted things….ugh. Now he was wide awake.

The activity which put Hermione in the deepest sleep always woke him up, lent him a manic sort of energy. He inched away from her warm body, and dimmed the light on her side of the bed with a word. She had a book on her side too, a great thick thing, for "light reading" she'd said when she'd brought it in. He decided he might as well try reading himself to sleep, he'd done it enough before.

Myths of Ancient Magicks. The title was more interesting the normal run of the mill Hermione book. He opened it, and licked his finger to turn a page. Ack! Oh, still the cat tongue thing then. _Finite Incantum_. He looked at Hermione. Should he remove hers as well? The prankster in him wanted to leave it, but he didn't want to suffer her particular brand of repercussion, so he waved a hand over her face and repeated his release of the spell. He heard Moody's clomping footfalls upstairs, and hoped that Tonks would make it through the night without any undue effects from the Amora potion. He didn't want to have to tell the Order why she was suddenly part werewolf or the details of the discovery of the effects of the potion. Tell Moody a half-truth about it was bad enough.

He flipped through the first few pages of the book, which detailed Egyptian mummifying myths and Chinese runes. Over all, there were a few interesting stories, but nothing compelling. Intent on the page, he wished that some stay bit of information would be useful, that he could contribute something as Hermione did everyday. Perhaps her love of books and research was rubbing off on him. If only there was something here about Horcrux, or something that might explain the strange effects of the Amora potion…something truly useful.

He flipped through the book furiously, and it fell to a random page, detailing the life of Merlin. _Merlin was said to have been studying the effects of strong emotion in magic toward the end of his career. He had felt that love, both eros and phila, were untapped sources of magical enhancement. It was after these experiments, with which he was never completely satisfied, that he attempted to prove a theory of his and cross successfully through the Veil of Time, a process that resulted in his famous reverse aging phenomena. He was said to have stated that if he had been able to tap into the protective power that love provides, he would have been shielded from death itself._

Ron, usually dense when it came to these matters, realized that this just might be significant. What was the Veil of Time? Was it like the Veil in the Department of Mysteries? Merlin had lived to pass through it. He almost reached over to wake Hermione, but she mumbled something and snuggled against him, unconsciously shielding her eyes from the light still in the room. He marked the page, and put the book away, turned off the light, and put his arm around the girl by his side. He fell asleep to the sound of her soft breathing.

Harry stomped through the house, angry. Angry with himself for yelling at Hermione, for being unable to accomplish anything, for endangering everyone. He crawled through the cabinet to the Room of Requirement, thinking of doing some research to try to bury his frustration in work, but filled with a longing for peace, for home.

So, when the cabinet opened, it was not into the book room, but instead to a staircase. He followed it down, to find a perfect replica of the Gryffindor common room, his home since he was eleven, the place he felt happiest. There was no one there, but a fire flared to life in the grate, and the room had a soothing warmth to it, as though the inhabitants were cozy in their beds, safe in the dormitories above.

He sat on the couch, tears in his eyes, wishing that life was simple, that he was finishing his seventh year and worrying about NEWTs instead of weighed down with the responsibility of killing Voldemort. He stared at the fire, a wished he was waiting for Sirius' head to appear there, or Dumbledore to call him to some secret meeting. But there was no one, and he was alone. Pain at the losses he'd suffered pierced him, and he knew he'd best return and apologize to Ron and Hermione, and not alienate the friends he still had. Still, he could not move.

Consumed in memories, he remembered the first kiss he'd shared with Ginny, and wished this really was the Gryffindor common room, and that she was sleeping up in the girls side, that she might come down and find him, wrap her arms around him and remind him that he would never be alone when he was linked to her so deeply. It was that, more that anything, which made the blasted search, and the loss of Hogwarts bearable, that he made such a bond with her. He could feel it, feel her even now, and he knew she was ok. In fact, he knew she was still awake. Maybe she had prefect duty, or was talking with the other girls. Maybe she was studying in the common room, sitting on this very couch. Merlin, he wished he could see her, touch her.

And then the door to the girl dorm opened, and her heard footsteps. And there she was. She smiled at him, and sat on the couch, opening her arms just as he'd dreamed. He hugged her, and she held him close, kissing his temple as he put his head on her shoulder, knocking his glasses askew.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?" he asked.

"Aren't you?" she replied. "You gave me the map remember, and Snape's not around to prowl around so quietly." He flinched, and she rolled her eyes. "I thought that was it. You've got to stop obsessing."

"I know." He picked up his head, and looked in her eyes.

"We'll find him, I promise. But no one in the order's heard anything about him, or Draco. He could be anywhere, and You-Know…Voldemort hasn't trotted him out to crow at any Death Eater attacks." She smiled, smoothing his ruffled hair, though in simply sprang back.

"I know, I know. I'll try." She kissed the tip of his nose. He captured her lips with his, and a sweet kiss soon turned passionate, despite their activities earlier in the day. He needed her, and she had known, and had come to him. She would always come to him, and he to her.

Clothes disappeared at a simple word, and they made love on the couch in the common room, the titillating fantasy of every student, even though it was highly unlikely they would be caught. He needed to be as close to her as possible, and she granted him entrance with few preliminaries, her need as great at his once she had felt his pain. His cock was hard and heavy against her, and she opened herself to him, and he filled her completely. She reached behind her to grip the end of the couch, her feet braced against the frame as she brought her hips up to meet his thrusts. He lost himself in her warm heat and soft moans, but he held on long enough to hear her scream her release, before a few frantic thrusts sent him to heaven and he collapsed on top of her. She held him to her, their naked bodies entwined. He shifted enough that she wasn't bearing his full weight, but he was still inside her when they both fell asleep, more comfortable than they had been in weeks sleeping apart, bad dreams held at bay for the moment.


	7. Morning After Moon

I don't own anything, just my own vanilla sex dreams.

In my last chapter, a sharp eyes reviewer pointed out that the Room of Requirement was unplottable on the Marauders map. Sorry if that was unclear. Ginny did not see Harry on the map and go to find him, she felt that he was in pain, and used the map to negotiated her way through the halls without getting caught on her way to Grimmauld. Thanks for keeping tabs on me though.

This chapter is mostly plot stuff, but I had to throw in a Remus/Tonks scene for someone who asked. And my own benefit. If you notice, I tend to give Ron (who has more time to devote his considerable energy to hedonistic imaginings than poor Harry) and Remus (who is a lovely combination of control and wildness) the most attention. Some odd combination of the two would be just about perfect for me, and would I suppose add up to be my sweet husband. I'm such a lucky girl!

This got a bit long, so I promise I'll get on with the plot soon, though I might have to sacrifice the lemony bits for the next chapter!

8

Nymphadora Tonks woke suddenly, a bit of weak light leaking through the curtains alerting her that dawn had finally arrived. She had finally fallen asleep after the moon had set a few hours ago, but the rest of the night had been spent pacing. She had not felt any undue stress from Remus, or the pain and frustration that she had been expecting, but her logical brain would not accept what her heart told her, and she had worried. She had felt no untoward affects, other than a sense of restless irritability, and so when she popped out of bed and banged on the bedroom door, she sounded quite surly.

"Moody! I'm still human! Let me out of here this minute."

There was no answer, but a weak mumble.

"Moody, if you don't let me out of here and let me see Remus, I'll hex off what's left of your nose, you great git!"

A shuffle and a click, and Tonks was greeted by that roving electric blue eye. "A man's gotta sleep sometime, Nymphadora."

She crossed her arms, "What ever happened to constant vigilance?"

He smirked, a truly fearsome sight, and she slipped passed him, still dressed in the ratty pajamas she had donned just in case she should somehow turn into a werewolf. These were her least favorite, and if they were torn to shreds, it would have been no loss. He called after her, "Interesting hair, my dear."

She ignored him, and flew down the steps, managing to only trip once at the bottom of the first floor staircase. She made her way to the basement through the empty house, silent as it was barely daylight and not yet six thirty. She threw open the bar to the door and crept as quietly as her graceless limbs could manage, expecting to find Remus naked and shivering, curled on the cold stone floor as usual, bleeding scratches covering his chest and arms. Instead, Remus was lying peacefully on a scratched up couch, a blanket pulled over him, though she could tell he wore nothing underneath. She turned, not wishing to disturb him if he still slept, but glanced back to admire his face, handsome and peaceful instead of drawn and shadowed. Whatever power he had gathered from their bond, it must have helped.

He cracked open one eye, "Hello Dora love."

She turned back to him. "How long have you been awake?"

"Since I heard you trip on the landing upstairs."

She rolled her eyes. "You seem to be doing well." He sat up, the blanket revealing his naked chest, lean and hard and covered with countless healed scars, but no fresh ones. She took a step closer, brushing her hand over his chest. He caught her wrist with his lightening fast reflexes, and held her hand to his heart.

"There was no pain, Nymphadora." His eyes bore into hers and shone with emotion. "Thank you."

She brushed his longish hair from his brow, "I'm so happy, love."

His look turned into one of concern, and he reached up, touching a curl that had fallen on to her shoulder. "Are you alright, my dear? Your hair, your eyes? Did…did you…"

"I'm a might bit more irritable than normal, but no worse than a bad bout of PMS. Perhaps the two illnesses are distantly related." She held her hair up in front of her, noticing the length was longer than she had dressed for bed, and the color was an odd mixed of grey and tawny gold. Definitely wolfish. "And what color are my eyes then?"

"Yellow, I suppose. Maybe more an amber. A bit like mine."

"I could change it, if it bothers you."

He smiled, and pulled her forward between his knees. "I like you a bit on the wild side, my dear."

"Same to you, Moony." She bent down and kissed him, a kiss that started hungry and passionate, but ended sweetly, almost reverently. Their faces inches apart, his hands holding her close against his naked chest, he stared up into her face. "You are really alright?"

She smiled, "I am really alright. Except for a lack of sleep from worry. Which was silly…I could feel…I know you were all right, but I still couldn't quite believe…."

"I'm not sure I can quite believe it either." He swallowed, and a shadow passed over his face. "It was the first time, even with the wolfsbane, that there wasn't any pain. I…I think the Wolf is so vicious because of the pain. The driving hunger, it wasn't so bad, it was manageable. I…I didn't have to fight it. I think I know now what Sirius must have felt like to become Padfoot, or James, Prongs. It, I didn't feel like I was losing myself in the pain anymore." His eyes were filled with an earnest wonder, and she felt hers fill with tears. She clasped his head to her chest, and they remained like that, filled with hope and wonder, for minutes.

Reality leaked in as she his warm breath against her nipples through the thin fabric of her T-shirt. Embarassment flooded her as she realized what a fright she must look, with only a few hours sleep, and in her oldest, most worn T-shirt and pajama pants.

He turned his face up to her again, and gave her a devilish grin. She suddenly could picture him perfectly as a Marauder. His hands gathered the loose fabric of her shirt, and this pulled her T-shirt taut against her front, her breast revealed clearly through the thin cotton. "I quite like it, actually."

She'd forgotten he could hear her thoughts, but his appreciative gaze on her breasts made her realize that he was completely nude, covered only from the waist down by the thin blanket. His clothes would only get ruined otherwise. She'd donned the old pajamas just in case something happened, and if they were torn, it would not be a great loss.

He pulled tighter, and she could hear stitches pop in the ragged seams. "Remus, I've got no other clothes to wear…."

"I'll share mine." And with his growl, the shirt ripped, revealing her naked chest. He captured a nipple with a voracious bite, and she threw her head back in rapture.

"Aren't….aren't you tired?" She asked breathlessly, though she could already feel the answer, both through the link that grew stronger with such physical contact, and his hardness prodding against the apex of her thighs. She pushed her hands against his chest and stood shakily, the look of abandonment on his face almost comical. She just smiled, and pulled her pants off as quickly as possible. The scent of her arousal filled them both with longing. Unfortunately, such a state of arousal did not help her to be any less clumsy, and she managed to trip as she stepped out of the pants, falling heavily on to a ragged looking rugs on the cold floor.

But she wasn't cold for long. Remus was on top of her in a moment, and their lips were locked in a fierce kiss. Remus drew back for a moment, "Dora, please, I need…." She wrapped her legs around him, and he slid into her, and they both felt a sense of homecoming that was undeniable. He held himself above her on strong arms, and his amber eyes bore into hers, searching for something, still unsure that this was real, despite the feelings they shared.

_I love you, Remus Lupin._

He closed his eyes, needing those words. _I don't deserve you. You are too good._

She thrust her hips at him, forcing him to move inside her, and they both gasped at the intense pleasure. _You, my love, are a complete git. Marry me._

His eyes flew open, his body stilled. "What?"

She paled. "Um, I….I can't help what I think."

He smiled. "Yes."

"Yes, what?" Her heart beat faster, not wanting to believe.

He thrust again, and she shivered at the pleasure.

"Yes…" Thrust, in.

"I…" Out, moan.

"Will…." In again, and her nails dug into his back.

"Marry…." She squeaked in response.

"You!." He pounded into her, allowing her no chance for coherent thought as the combination of the delicious invasion of her body and the echo of the effect of the sweet pressure of her walls on him combined toward a mind-numbing orgasm in record time. She began a long keening moan of victory as she came, and his throaty growl added the perfect harmony.

As there breathing returned to normal, Remus snagged the blanket from the couch and covered them both with it as they curled together on the floor. "When?" she asked.

"Oh..." he moaned. "I'm not sure a bloke can be held accountable for things he agrees to whilst engaged in intercourse with a beautiful woman."

She hit him in the shoulder. "Ow!" They both said.

"Ha, you have to be nice to me, I'm an old worn out man."

"You seemed just fine a moment ago."

"Only fine?" He asked raising himself onto one elbow and looking down at her, and she loved it that he would joke with her. That he could joke with her, when usually after a transformation he was completely withdrawn, hating himself.

"Magnificent, stupendous, extraordinary." She swallowed, unable to meet his eyes. "So wonderful I can't let you get away from me."

"Are you certain?"

She rolled her eyes. "I am completely sick of you asking me this. Yes! I want to spend the rest of my life, however long or short it might be with the bloody world falling apart around us, with one wonderful werewolf, Remus Lupin, lover extraordinare. Dammit, Moony, this damn potion wouldn't work if I didn't love…" he wouldn't let her finish, but kissed her passionately. She wrapped her arms around him, and heard his answer in her head.

_Gods, I love you. Tomorrow if we could. Today. This very minute. You are mine._

Happiness flooded her, along with a wave of exhaustion from lack of sleep, tension and physical exertion. Before she even realized it, she was asleep in his arms, more content than she could have ever imagined.

Harry knelt in front of the gravestone his parents shared, and the nightmares echoed in his head.

_No, not Harry, not Harry. Take me…._His mother's cries were familiar, wonderful and terrible as the only connect he had with her.

_You'll not have it, or them, you bastard…._His father's stern voice, filled with purpose and a touch of fear was new. But he not the energy to wonder.

Tears filled his eyes, and the touched the earth before him, physically closer to his parents now than he had been for sixteen years, only six feet separating them. He didn't know how to go on, when everybody kept dying. His parents, Sirius, Dumbledore. He was silent and stiff in his grief, overwhelmed by it all. He was supposed to be the bloody Savior of the Wizarding World, and he felt like he could do nothing at all but cause death and destruction.

And then, a touch on his shoulder, a flowery scent, and he was embraced in warm arms as the tears broke through. _Ginny._ She had followed them to Godric's Hollow, though he had told her to stay, to be safe, to forget him. Ron and Hermione had stood back, not knowing what to do or what to say, but Ginny had come, and had found him. Release filled him, with the knowledge that he wasn't alone. He loved this girl, this woman, and she loved him. His friends loved him, and he loved them. He loved this world, the world that had opened for him at eleven, the world that all these people had died to protect.

"I see you've found each other again." Startled, he and Ginny looked up from the ground where they knelt to the figure hovering before them. They were in a fog of white, and before them was Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling as merry as always.

Ginny recovered first. "Professor, what….where…"

"Miss Weasley, I'm so very happy that you ignored Mr. Potter's ridiculous actions and proceeded to convince him that you were much better off together." Ginny blinked, and Harry remained stunned, still hugging her fiercely. Dumbledore chuckled. "I know this is quite a shock, but I haven't long you see. It takes a fair bit of energy to project from where I am, and I'm afraid that I must tell you something important. You've found the power of love, you two. Now, you must use it wisely and well. Use the pensieve, Harry. I've left it for you, though you haven't been back to Hogwarts to claim it."

"I didn't know, sir…Sir, I'm so sorry, I'll find Snape too, I promise…"

"Harry, there's no time...Severus isn't to blame, but I can't say more. Examine your memories, Harry. I think that your father might have been trying to…." There was a wailing noise, and Dumbledore was fading, his words lost. Harry reached out, as though to touch the dimming purple robes. Another face, intent with effort, appeared in the fog.

"Harry, Harry….can you hear me? I'm trying, I'm trying Harry, I'll be there in a minute, I swear…." But the face drew away, as though being pulled back against it's will.

Harry yelled, and got off his feet, running toward the face of the man that seemed to recede into the distance. "Sirius!"

Harry awoke, sweating, unsure of what had just happened. He had had nightmares so many times that he was unphased by most, but this was strange, and more disturbing than most. He was alone again, in Sirius' room in Grimmauld, though Mrs. Weasily had managed a thorough cleaning before Harry had taken up residence.

Ginny had woken up at three in the morning in a panic, and Harry had dashed to his room to loan her his Invisibility Cloak to use along with the map to get back to the dorms. She had left him with a kiss, and he had been unable to restrain himself from thinking how much he wanted to wake up every morning with her in his arms. She had given him a mysterious smile, and shielded her thoughts from him enough so that he only got a glimpse of an image that arose in her mind, of them standing in the garden in the Burrow, him in formal black robes and she in white with a crown of flowers in her unbound hair. He still wasn't quite sure what that meant, but she'd disappeared up the replicated Girls' staircase, on her way to the real one as fast as she could.

He'd returned to Grimmauld, and climbed into his cold and lonely bed. The dreams had started not long after, but this last one had been so vivid, he almost felt that Dumbledore and Sirius were still in the room with him. He had barely thought of Sirius in months, with the death of Dumbledore, the betrayal by Snape, and the intense bond he had developed with Ginny. Guilt flooded him that he had forgotten his godfather, one of the few people in his life who had ever loved him. His parents, Sirius, Dumbledore, Ginny, the Weasleys, Ron and Hermione….

"Bollocks. Hermione…I've got to go talk to her…," he muttered. He had acted like a total prat, and she didn't deserve it. He just was so frustrated. They had gained all these powers with the Amora potion, and yet they still could come up with a plan to destroy the two Horcrux they had, or find the one that was missing.

He sat up in bed, the clock reading not quite eight. Harry pulled on some clothes in a rush, and knocked on Ron's door, but was not surprised to receive no response. Hermione rarely let herself sleep past seven, and Ron had apparently grown used to having her by his side, for her rarely stayed in bed alone anymore. Harry went down the stairs to the kitchen, thinking that perhaps they were having breakfast, but found only Mrs. Weasley bustling about, a contemplative look on her face.

"Oh, Harry dear. It's good to see you. You must be hungry, you look so thin all the time." Her warm look was a comfort, and yet he could not help but feel embarrassed in her presence, sneaking around with her daughter the way that he was. She went on, concern on her features, and something else he couldn't identify, "I know you have more on your mind to worry you than most young men, but you still need to take care of yourself, and find…comfort where you can." She turned away, and stirred at a pot on the stove.

Thoughts of the need for an apology to Hermione fled as Harry blushed. He had the uncomfortable sensation that Molly Weasley knew a lot more about what went on in this house than anyone had guessed. He supposed he had just received her tacit permission to carry on with her daughter, but he didn't want her thinking poorly of him.

"Mrs Weasley, ma'am?" She turned back to him, setting a plate of eggs and toast piled high in front of him.

"Yes, dear?"

"I'm sorry that I have to ask, Mrs. Weasley," Harry could feel himself sweat nervously. "But, among wizards…I mean, in the magical world, how do you get ma.…I…." He blew out a breath in frustration. "Would a man have to ask permission of a girl's parents to ask her to marry him? I mean, do you need a license and everything?"

Mrs. Weasley looked dumbfounded for a moment, and then a wide grin settled on her face. "Harry…I'm so happy...of course you can…" She sobered, and took her queue for an impersonal answer. "No, dear, although that's a very sweet thought. A lifebonding is between two people only, and no one can really prevent it, love, or give their permission. When it happens, the ceremony is really after the fact, for if two people truly fall in love and wish to spend their lives together, they are really already married." Harry smiled suddenly, thinking that the whole thing would be much easier than he'd ever thought, if he and Ginny were already practically married anyway. Mrs. Weasley continued her lecture. "Some pureblooding families have silly ceremonies to try and force two of their ilk together, but it often turns out badly. That's why there's such a rate of Squibs amongst them, I'm afraid. Tsk, tsk," she clucked her tongue in disapproval, "If You-Know-Who were to have his way, there wouldn't be a wizard or witch left after fifty years. It takes love to make proper magic, much less a proper child!" She blushed suddenly, and her eyes darted to Harry, who gulped suddenly. "But I don't think that will be a problem for you dear, you wouldn't be thinking of _children_ yet, would you?" Her tone was a bit severe, and Harry shook slightly, but she turned around again, and flicked her wand at the dishes in the sink. She muttered something under her breath which sounded suspiciously like, "I wouldn't mind having grandchildren though, I suppose."

Harry hadn't given it much thought, but the image of his Ginny holding a black-haired baby in her arms and singing a soft lullaby made his heart skip a beat. He closed his eyes. His longing for a family was so intense, but he had never really realized that if he lived, he could have one, he could make his own with the woman he loved. He would find a way to make the world safe, so that his child, maybe even children, would have a safe place to grow up, and parents who could lavish them with the affection he had not known in his childhood.

Mrs. Weasley was speaking again, breaking into his serious thoughts, "Eat up, dear. I don't know what's come over everyone today. Moody's asleep, which is as rare a thing as I've ever seen, Nymphadora's hasn't come down to breakfast either, and she's usually as hungry as a bear in the morning. And Ron and Hermione left with just some toast on their way to do some research. Hah." She laughed, "Those two have certainly gotten close, haven't they?"

Harry jumped up, remembering that he still needed to apologize to Hermione. "I better find them then, Mrs. Weasley. Thanks for breakfast."

He was almost out the door, when he heard, "Take care of Ginny for me, Harry." He turned, eyes wide again. She must have known about the connection to Hogwarts, if not the extent of his and Ginny's relationship.

"I will, with my life, I will."


	8. Apology

Poor, poor Ron. In fanficdom he almost never gets decent action. I think of him like the guys in Revenge of the Nerds. Since he's not consumed with the thought of death or prophecies or saving the world, and he seems to be a bit of a hedonist, I figure he'd be damn good in bed (although I'm sure Harry's not terrible). Most folks seem to hand Hermione off to Snape without giving Ron a chance. After doing some research on various sites to find out how little action Ron really gets, I find I must give him another scene with Hermione, even if it doesn't do much for the plot. I promise, plot will happen soon, and I will get on with the story….

A note of thanks to my new beta, TheDivaDivine. She would like me to point out that the first bit is a DREAM SEQUENCE, and no, Ron is not really kissing Lavender. It was a bit confusing on the first draft.

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Half-heartedly kissing Lavender on a chair in the common room, Ron couldn't help that his thoughts wandered from the girl lip-locked to him to a completely different girl, his best friend and a know-it-all, who he would much rather have in his arms. He closed his eyes, imagining he was kissing Hermione, when he felt Lavender move off him suddenly, his eyes opened to find Hermione clutching Lavender's robes, a look of determined fury on her face.

"He's mine! Sod off you slut." She drew back a fist threateningly, but Lavender scurried away.

He stared at Hermione in opened-mouth awe, and she turned her head to face him, her light brown eyes alive with the fire of her anger.

"Godric, you're beautiful when you are angry." He clapped a hand over his mouth. Had he just said out loud? It was true that whenever they had a row lately he had gotten hard looking at her flushed skin and flashing eyes, but he'd never had the nerve to announce it!

She smiled, and climbed on the chair, straddling his lap in a manner more daring and arousing than Lavender had ever been. Her skirt rode up her thighs as she sat on his lap facing him, and he swallowed, embarrassed that she would surely feel the erection that had sprung up painfully in his jeans. Gods…he was dreaming….he had to be dreaming.

Seeking to distract her, and dying for the chance, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. Merlin, this was a kiss! Snogging Dream Lavender had been porridge compared to the banquet of feelings from Dream Hermione. He couldn't get close enough to her, he wished he could curl up inside of her.

Suddenly, they were naked, and she was wrapped around his length, better than any of his dreams or jacking off-sessions. He closed his eyes tightly, willing that the dream would continue just a bit longer…please….

"Merlin, Ron, you are so harrrdddd…" His eyes snapped open, and he was awake. And it was much, much better than stupid dreams involving Lavender. Hermione was gloriously naked and on top of him, eyes closed, her breasts bouncing as she eased up and down his morning erection, her hair floating around her head like an untamed halo.

He smiled, still amazed that she was his now. "Hey, no fair starting without me!" He gripped her hips and bucked up against her. She moaned, and her eyes flew open and she grinned wickedly at him.

"I had to wake you up somehow. Oh, oh, yes!" He changed their rhythm, and she bounced against him at a different angle. Had it only been a few months ago when he hadn't even had the nerve to kiss her? How had he lived before having her?

She smiled down at him, her eyes filled with amusement and love, though still glazed with passion. _I think you've got plenty of nerve now, love. Last night was amazing._

Always pleased with praise, especially from her, he gave her his trademark lop-sided grin, and thrust up against her hard, grinding his hips into her. _If I like the subject, I can be a very fast learner._

"Yyyeessss…..Oh, gods, Ron!" He could feel how close she was, how wet and tight, her walls pulsing against him. But it wasn't quite enough, and he knew what she needed a moment before she said it.

"I can start without you, but I can't finish without….." he gripped her thighs and flipped them over, slamming her down on her back and ramming into her to the hilt. She was always just a bit looser in the mornings, so he touched her cervix and she screamed, and the shockwave almost sent him over the edge. He bit his lip, determined to make her crazy, and he pounded into her hard, the way he now knew she liked it. No romance for his witch, just action.

She convulsed after five strokes, and she clamped down with her orgasm, shuddering against him so hard that it took all his willpower not to have that and the powerful echo of her peak make him come. He continued his thrusting action, instinct inspiring him to grip her calves and lift her legs, altering his angle just so.

_Yes! So….right….fuck!_ She began to pant loudly, gasping for air as he wouldn't let her relax, and she arched again with another, stronger orgasm. The reverberation of her cursing in his head turned him on so much he couldn't hold back this time, and he came so hard his legs cramped with it. He collapsed on top of her, breathing loudly.

"'Mione, I…._pant_…I didn't know you even knew that word!" She blushed, a dazed look in her eyes.

He kissed her nose. "I like it." She blushed harder. He rolled off her, and gathered her into his arms.

"Good morning by the way."

She stuck out her tongue. "Good morning to you too."

"You make a much better wake-up call than Moody or Mum."

She rolled her eyes, and sat up. _You looked too good to resist_.

He pulled her back down to the bed. "More thoughts like that, and we'll never make it downstairs." He gave her a quick kiss, but he stomach betrayed him and growled loudly, protesting at the lack of food after vigorous exercise. Hermione giggled, and his heart did a little flip-flop and how much he loved the sound of her laugh. She rolled off the bed, and stood and stretched, and he watched her naked form arch provocatively in front of him. He reached for her, but she scurried away again.

"You're drooling, Ronniekins. You must be hungry."

"Only for you love." But his stomach growled again, and she rolled her eyes. She stooped to the floor to pick up a discarded robe, and threw it over her head. As her face reappeared, she gave a puzzled look.

She pointed at his dresser, and the book open there. "Were you reading last night?"

Still lost in thoughts of their recent activities, he looked perplexed, "What? Oh, that." He looked at the book, picking it up. "I couldn't sleep, too wound up." She blushed again. "It's really not a bad book. There was this cool bit about Merlin and love spells and a Veil of Time that was right interesting."

"I haven't gotten that far. Let me see." He handed it to her and she sat on the bed. He scooted next to her as she read, drawing lazy circles on her knee, unable to keep his hands off her if he had the opportunity to touch her.

"Ron! This is amazing! This might be really useful. We'd better go look if there is any more on this in the Room of Requirement. Maybe I can get Ginny to find something at Hogwarts too."

_Ah, back to work_. "Can we have breakfast first?"

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Harry found Ron and Hermione both bent over books at the table in the book room of the Room of Requirement after he'd climbed through the cabinet. Ron seemed to have matured a lot in the last few months, barely complaining anymore about the amount they had to read, and Hermione's efforts to organize the vast collection of books in this room. He even managed to read some of the seventh year assignments that Neville brought for Hermione, since she never really gave up the hope of passing her NEWTs, even if she wouldn't be graduating Hogwarts.

Harry suspected that McGonagall and some of the other Order members even graded her homework. Harry too had read some of the more useful seventh year work, at least for charms and such. Potions he couldn't bring himself to do, though Hermione had found and perused Snape's book that had brought him such acclaim from Slughorn last year. Harry didn't even want to touch the thing, knowing that it had belonged to him. This thought reminded him what he was here to do.

"Hi there."

They looked up, acknowledging his presence, though they had surely heard the door creak open. "Hi Harry," said Hermione. Ron just glared at him. Ron didn't take kindly to anyone yelling at Hermione, unless it was himself. Lately, Harry swore that Ron picked little fights with her, and almost as soon as the yelling began, Ron would yank Hermione into his arms and kiss her, and she would cling to him almost violently, and then the two would Apparate somewhere and no one would see them for at least an hour. Ugh. Harry really didn't want to think about that too much.

Harry sat down. "Look, Hermione…and you too Ron. I'm really sorry for what I said last night. I had no right to…you both have done so much. I really don't know what I'd do without you, though I hate the thought that you might get hurt. It's just…..the waiting. I feel useless, and terrible that I've got you working so hard when you should be safe at school…"

"It's all right Harry. I understand." Hermione looked at him with soft eyes, and he was ever so grateful that she was there.

"Yeah, mate. You've got a lot on your mind. Still, try to keep your cool, eh?"

"Yeah, sorry." He heaved a sigh, and propped his chin on his folded arms. "I think I'm going mad trapped in the house with nothing to do but train in the ballroom and read. I think I understand now how Sirius must have felt." He closed his eyes at the thought, remembering the dream he'd had that morning.

"Harry, about Sirius….Ron found something interesting in a book…"

Just then, the clanking of the warded door from Hogwarts alerted them that someone was coming through, and Luna came in followed by Ginny, and both were engaged in a deep conversation. Harry grinned, suddenly happy at the sight of his love, thought of Sirius and strange dreams pushed to the back of his mind.

"Does it taste better than Lucnok eggs? I've been taking those for a month now, and they are terrible?" Ginny blinked her eyes at this statement from Luna.

"Yes, it really isn't too bad, and you only have to take it once a month." Her voice fell to a hush. "That way, it's easier to be prepared for…" Ginny shot a heated look at Harry, "possibilities." Harry was normally dense, but with an echo of her thoughts gave him enough insight to know that they were discussing something about sex.

Harry looked down, still embarrassed to have others in the room when thinking about Ginny and sex, especially in proximity to Ron.

Luna looked with the round eyes at the assembled group. "Neville sent me with this weeks' assignments Hermione. He's got a meeting with Professor McGonagall this morning."

Hermione spoke up loudly, "Harry, Ron, why don't you two go look up some more books on Merlin on the third level?" Her tone made it clear that she wanted the boys gone. Ron, still a bit clueless, blinked at her.

"Go on then, Ron. Maybe you and Harry can talk about that late wedding gift for Bill and Fleur." She arched an eyebrow suggestively.

"But I already gave them some silverware."

She put her hands on her hips, "Five teaspoons, stolen from Grimmauld!"

Ron's ears turned red. "I don't have a lot of blunt. Harry didn't mind." Harry nodded to back him up. Ron was always sensitive about money.

Hermione rolled her eyes again as Ginny and Luna giggled. "Well, you'll have to talk with him about the _other_ present we could give them. I'm certainly not going to talk to Fleur about it."

Ron's eye's widened in understanding, and Harry got it at the same moment. _Oh, the Amora._

The two boys stood up and headed up the staircase in the back of the room, toward the third level. Harry could hear the girls' hushed conversation, followed by a few giggles as they turned to look at him and Ron.

Harry didn't really want to think about trying to tell Bill about the potion, not when Bill would figure out how Harry knew about what it did. Ron was bad enough about him and Ginny, but he really didn't want any other of the brother's giving him dirty looks about his intensions toward their baby sister.

He cleared his throat. "So, Ron, I think you'll have to tell Bill about the Amora. Hermione's probably told you more about it than me."

"Sod off, Harry. I know I'll have to tell him. He'd probably take a bite out of you if he knew what you were doing with Ginny. It'd bring the wolf out of him surer than anything else." Ron swallowed, his ears went red again. "It'll be bad enough the lecture I'll get about me and Hermione. I just hope the prat doesn't crow about the whole thing to Charley or the twins. I'll never hear the end of it. Or, Gred and Forge'll invent some Extendable Eye thingy and try and catch us in the act." He shuddered. "S'bad enough trying to avoid Mum and Dad all the time."

Harry sighed. "I think she's figured it out, Ron. She dropped some hints this morning at breakfast that were pretty clear." Ron stood dead still, and looked a bit green.

"Bugger."

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"So, with all of Ginny's questions, I assume that you two have already made use of this Pentosum potion she was talking about?" Luna was uncomfortably straightforward when she wasn't being downright odd.

Hermione blushed a bit, and both she and Ginny looked at the boys reflexively.

"Are they any good?"

Hermione blinked, and then giggled.

Ginny was the brave one however. "Harry is bloody amazing. What about Neville?"

It was Luna's turn to blush. "We…we haven't quite gotten there yet. I keep thinking that maybe we are being haunted by Decupiding Drelists, but I think it's just that Neville is a bit worried about me. That and it's a bit difficult to find time alone when you are in different houses."

Hermione decided that the question needed to be asked. "Do you love him?"

Luna's dreamy look took over once again, but it was tainted by a hint of sadness. "Yes. He's much stronger than anyone gives him credit for, you know. He…help helped me a lot after…after my father died." Mr. Lovegood had been killed in an attack on the Quibbler over the summer. "And he doesn't mind that I'm a bit odd…he says that after dealing with his parents his whole life, he finds me rather sane. He's very sweet." The girls were silent for a moment."

Luna broke the silence. "So, when's the wedding?"

Both Ginny and Hermione jumped, "Eh…um….what!"

Luna smiled, "Professor Lupin and Auror Tonks. Aren't they getting married?"

Hermione looked at Luna in confusion. Ginny said, "I don't think so, although Mum said she looked in on Moony this morning and he was…well, she said he was fine, but Mum was blushing, so they were probably together."

Luna frowned. "Hmmm…well, we'll see."

Hermione forged on, "Luna, if, if you love Neville, and are willing to become…well, more intimate with him…"

"Well, I wouldn't mind shagging him senseless, if that's what you mean."

Hermione blushed again. Luna always did manage to make her uncomfortable. "Yes, well, we've got this potion we've found that seems to increase your magical powers if you are in proximity to your true love. It…it also…."

"Allows you to sense each other's feelings?" Luna stated, her head at an inquisitive angle.

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Yes, how did you know?"

"Oh, when you and Ronald are reading here, if he scratches an inch, you scratch the same place. Things like that. I thought you might have had some odd new form of Pogre Pox, but perhaps I was mistaken."

Hermione couldn't help but smile, and she could see Ginny chewing her knuckles, trying not to laugh. "Yes, well, the potion does allow you to feel the other's physical sensations some of the time, even thoughts occasionally, when you are…very close."

"It makes the sex amazing." Ginny blurted out.

Luna looked very intrigued. Hermione fished the unbreakable vial out of her robes, where she kept the remaining potion for safekeeping. "If you think he might be interested, give it a try. We think the increase in power will help in the War."

Luna took the vial. "This should keep those Decupiding Drelists from bothering us anymore. Thank you."


	9. HeWhoWaits

Thanks again to TheDivaDivine, for making this a much better chapter….we follow Draco for a bit, and Severus has an epiphany.

Please keep those reviews coming, they help me a lot. Oh, and I promise, I will get to Neville and Luna soon….I had no idea there was such demand for them!

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He-Who-Waits watched the dappled light filtered down on the dark green of the vines twisting around the thick trunk of the tree on which he perched. His mind was blissfully empty, as he focused only on the task at hand. There…a fluttering…no, she would make nothing so conspicuous, it was merely an insect.

Then he saw it, the sliver of tan flesh peaking out of the shadow of a giant root. He darted down silently and swung over the root, and he was greeted by a flashing white smile in a beautiful oval face.

"Good, good. You get better every time. Soon you will be able to go with the seekers, if you so choose." Her black eyes carried a twinkle of pride for him.

_Seeker_. A word from his past, bringing memories of soaring high above a cheering green and silver crowd, the glory of victory, and the frustration of losing time and again to that freakish scarred Gryffindor idiot….No, he wouldn't think of it. He looked instead at the beautiful girl curled elegantly on the forest floor, a short sheer gown of white cotton hugging her lithe brown body, revealing glimpses of her thighs that made his heart race. He almost blushed when he recalled that he was dressed in nothing but a loincloth. He still couldn't quite bring himself to be entirely comfortable with the ensemble.

"Ella, it will be quite some time before I don't embarrass myself and scare off any game." To her, a seeker was a hunter, whether of game or herbs or the enchanted feathers of the quetzal, not a flyer on a broomstick who chased a silly bewitched ball.

"He-Who-Waits should not underestimate himself so." He smiled, remembering the first time she had given him his new name, the first time she had accosted him, speaking broken English, in front of the hut he and his mother shared. He had spent a full week doing nothing but staring into space, sitting in front of the hut soaking himself in hurt and anger and despair as Snape and his mother had talked at him, told him things that had destroyed his whole world. But this beautiful girl had been brave enough to come up to him, to encourage him to explore the forest. She had called him He-Who-Waits, and it felt good to be a new person, with a new name, and to do something else than wallow.

He was brought back to the present as Ixchel, normally reticent and quiet, unsure of the new language she spoke with him, continued her speech. "You have come far. You would do well here, if you choose to stay." She looked away suddenly, biting her lip in a nervous fashion. He was surprised at her disquietude. She was normally possessed of an unearthly calm, a serenity that had given him a measure of peace. He supposed that it might not have been her nature state, but a part of her training to be a priestess.

"You are nervous, Ixchel. Am I to blame?" He sat down on the ground at her side. She still would not look at him. He wasn't used to caring this much what anyone thought of him. Anyone but his father. Or whoever he had thought was his father. A cold knot of anger hardened in his stomach, but he tried to push it away.

She turned back, as though reading his thoughts, and she brushed his cheek with her small hand. He closed his eyes, his heart skipped a beat at her touch. She had never touched him on purpose before, but each casual brush against him had tortured him for days afterward. He could not get used to needing someone this badly.

Her hand returned to wrap itself around her knees, and she stared at the ground, following a trial of leafcutter ants a few feet away. He waited, with patience he had struggled to acquire, for her to speak again.

"The Chel'Nicha is in two weeks, He-Who-Waits. And I must choose." He blinked. He knew it was some kind of coming of age ceremony, and special for her, as she would become a priestess then, but she had never divulged any more details of the nature of this ceremony.

"Choose what, Ella?"

"Choose my path. Old or new. Or something else."

He waited again, knowing there was more, but that she would not be pushed. She was stubborn, and reticent, and beautiful, and she had enough good in her to ease the guilty ache he felt whenever his thoughts drifted to the world he had left, and his own actions there. There was a brief flash of a vision of a weakened old man, offering him sanctuary. Sanctuary he hadn't been brave enough to take. He pushed the memory away violently.

"Something else?"

She breathed in, her eyes distant. "Our ways are strange to you, yet you have adopted them. Still, we are changing. We have to change. To be a priestess, to be a true priestess in the old way I must live up to my name. I must become my namesake, the moon, Ixchel." She paused, and he struggled to remain silent, keeping a tight rein on the part of himself that took no heed to others, that was impatient and intolerant and hateful.

"To be Ixchel, to be the Goddess, must pass through the phases of life in a holy state. I am the Maiden now. But I must soon become a Woman. And eventually a Mother."

He felt a tightness in his chest, and heat flooded him with thoughts of what Ixchel becoming a woman would entail.

"You have to choose a mate?" He swallowed nervously.

"At least, I must choose a partner for that night at least." She blushed, and her eyes traced his face for a moment, before returning to the ground.

He ran a shaking hand through brown-black hair that was long enough to frame his face now. It still shocked him not to see the blond it once was, and he was grateful that there were few mirrors here. After a few days in Chen'Itza, he had decided to abandon all magic, and had thrown his wand into the forest in a fit of rage. He had tried to remove all the glamour spells from him that his mother had cast to affect their escape. But there had been nothing to remove. His hair had never been blond, though it had been such a part of his identity, the blond hair that was so like Lucius Malfoy's, the man he had thought to be his father. This brown mop was his real hair, and in the days after he had learned the truth. His mother's hair was not blond either, but dark brown like Aunt Bellatrix. And Snape's hair was black, of course.

He reached out a hand, longing to touch the long black waves that caressed Ella's shoulders. "Who…what will you do?"

"Most girls choose a friend, someone they fancy from the tribe, to represent the young Corn God. Some choose an older, wiser man, to represent the Jaguar Hunter. Very rarely, as few from the outside world come to us, someone has chosen to be with him, to learn from Kukulkan."

Hope flared in his heart. A desperate, yearning hope. "Kukulkan? The feathered serpent?"

She smiled softly. "You remember. It is a hard path, to follow Kukulkan. It is a quest. To bring learning back, to help the tribe to survive." Her hand reached out, and captured his, though she did not meet his eyes again. "I would have to leave Chen'Itza. To follow…the man of my choice. To see his world, and learn its lessons, and bring them home."

He stared at their joined hands. Did she mean Snape? Oh gods, no. "He has nothing to teach you. He can't leave anyway." His tone carried viciousness, all the anger he felt. His father, no matter who he was, always seemed to determined to steal want he wanted.

She looked at him, her brow furrowed. "I think you could teach me much, Draco. I think you could show me your world."

His stomach flip-flopped again. He hadn't heard that name in months, and never from her lips. He wasn't sure if he had ever wanted to hear it again, but from her, her soft accent gave it a new feeling.

"I can't go back, not to who I was. I would be killed, and I don't think you would like who I was. I don't think I did." Snape…his father… had told him of the Vow, of Snape's own duplicity, of the true nature of the Death Eaters, of his true allegiance to the Light. Draco had sat like a stone, unmoving, unseeing, and unresponsive, but he had heard everything. He had heard his mother tell him that Lucius Malfoy was not his father, that everything that had driven him from his earliest memories was a lie. He was not a pureblood, not a sainted Malfoy, and if any one of his old "friends" knew he would most likely be killed. He had wanted to scream, to rail in denial, to beat both of them to a bloody pulp. But then he saw Dumbledore's face in front of him, and the green light that took his life, and he had remained silent. Did he really want to be any of those things anymore?

"Nevertheless, I need you to be Draco. The Itza need it as well. There is an Evil present in the world right now. I feel it even now, crawling through the minds of the People." She stared into his grey eyes. "I feel that trail that it has left through yours." Ixchel had powers he did not fully understand, but any Occulmency he had learned from Snape was useless against her. It was useless to hide his emotions from her, and it had been that that had attracted him to her in the first place. He couldn't hide, and the fact that she still tried to talk with him, and had learned English at an amazing rate to do so, had broken through the barriers he had so carefully constructed around himself in the weeks after their arrival here.

"I can help you." It was a whisper, but it reverberated in his head, like the words of Dumbledore himself. Could she really help? Could he? Could he fight back against his father, against Lucius Malfoy and the Dark Lord and those like him? Fight to have a life of his own choosing, rather than sit and wait for Death to find him? The small woman who looked intently at him seemed to think he could.

"So….umm….would you have to be a mother immediately?" he gulped again nervously. Still, the thought of a child didn't scare him half so much as he thought it would. It was a new beginning after all, something he was desperate to find.

She laughed, and smiled at his sudden change of topic. "No, but I must make a beginning within a year. I would only be with you…away from Chen'Itza for a year."

"I could not return with you?" Fear gripped him again, awaiting her answer. To have her, the one truly good thing in his life, the only thing he had earned himself, with no help from his parents or his name or lineage or money, to have her taken from him, along with his yet-non-existent child, would be too much for him to bear.

"Only if you choose to. You must decide then."

"I wouldn't abandon my family." His voice was steely. He was not Lucius Malfoy, he was…well, he wasn't HeWhoWaits either…he was Draco. He had to be…she needed him to be.

She rose, and knelt in front of him, and leaned forward, her long hair a black waterfall around her. She pressed her lips to his, in a chaste kiss, unpracticed and naïve. Draco however, was hardly inexperienced, but he had never cared for Pansy Parkinson or any of his other myriad conquests as he did for this woman. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest, and kissed her with the pent up passion of four months in her presence, dreaming of her, smelling her scent and longing to feel her skin against his.

She drew back, and he was pleased by the dazed look in her eyes. "I think…I think I shall enjoy the Chel'Nicha more than I ever dreamed."

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The ghostly light touches wakened her, but she remained perfectly still. Perhaps this time he would be fooled, and he would leave her be. She waited for the pain, for the icy grip of his hands on her thighs, the punishment of his body in herself, the cruel voice taunting her, but pain didn't come. Instead, nimble fingers stroked the inside of her elbows, the side of her breasts. Warm breath blew across her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"Severus," she mumbled, as a heady joy filled her. The fingers caressed a path to her thighs, parting them slightly, and her eyes flew open as she felt hot breath against her most intimate parts.

"Severus!" He gave her a wicked grin, and his tongue lapped against her folds, parting them and sending sparks up her spine. She let out a little scream, and clutched at the long dark hair that she had dreamed of for so long, and trembled as his tongue stroked her, driving her insane with pleasure she could barely comprehend. Time slowed to a crawl, and she felt herself arch off the floor, rigid with tension. She was so close, so very close…

He whispered, whether at her entrance or in her mind, she wasn't sure, but his rich voice filled her mind with wicked images. "Let go, Cissy. You are free."

Two fingers plunged inside of her, and she exploded, finding a pleasure she had not realized existed. Panting, she opened her eyes to find him above her, staring into her face as though she was going to disappear and he was trying to memorize her face.

She smiled, and moved her hips upward, brushing his arousal. He groaned, and leaned forward to kiss her, and she wrapped herself in him as he filled her, bringing sweet fulfillment to a heart grown cold and hard with years of pain. When they came back to themselves, his face was inches from hers, brushing her brown hair, finally her natural color after twenty years of glamour charms, from her face, his eyes filled with cautious hope. "I do not deserve you."

She cupped his face in her hands. Words poured from her heart, words she had not dared even think before. "You are the only good thing I have ever had, Severus Snape. And you helped me create the only good in my life, my son. I love you."

He leaned in to kiss her again, when his eyes glazed with a sharp look of awe. "Cissy…Cissy, you are brilliant. You….you might have just given me the answer I have searched for." He scrambled up, and she felt bereft at the loss of him. Then he shook his head, and sat back beside her. "I…I have to do this. I have to make it right. But…you won't leave me?" He did not have to say the word "Again" but it was there between them, nevertheless

She looked at him sadly. "Severus, I will not be the one to leave this time. But I will be here, waiting, when you return."


	10. Neville and Luna

This was really hard folks….I had to reread whole sections of OotP and HBP to get a feel for the dynamic between these two. I'm still not convinced its any good, but I did my best. I can't seem to channel Luna very well. Also, I am totally sick of writing deflowering scenes. No more virgins! Whoo-hoo….Oops…well, there's Ixchel isn't there…but I think Draco ends up suffering more than her. Tee-hee…you'll see soon enough, in later chapters!

This took me a long time to write this, as I've been suffering from an odd ailment, labyrinthitis, which involves the inner ear and makes me very, very dizzy. Therefore, it is a bit more difficult to write then usual. Hopefully, I will get better soon, and I'll be able to update faster. Thanks for your support!

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Neville Longbottom had a headache. Not a terribly bad headache, but a headache. He should probably go to Madame Pomfrey for some willow bark, but he had too many other things he was supposed to be doing. He sat in his room in the Head's dorm, and stared at the schedule in front of him, trying to figure out how to coordinate prefect patrols, DA meetings and research in the Room of Requirement, and this new task McGonagall had given him, helping Professor Sprout protect some of the more potent herbs in the greenhouse from someone who kept trying to snatch them.

Unfortunately, he was not really able to concentrate on his task, because his mind kept drifting to something completely different. Something much more pleasant than grades or patrols or DADA or defeating You-Know-Who or worrying about his parents. Luna Lovegood.

He smiled for a moment and leaned back in his chair, giving in to the urge to fill his mind with her image for a few minutes. He shook his head at the memory of getting on the train fifth year, and not wanting to share a compartment with her. He had thought that he could avoid some of the incessant teasing he was subjected to if he wasn't around any odd people, but he was stupid and immature then. What he would have missed had Ginny not been so insistent, or if there had been another compartment open on the train?

"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."

He remembered her alto voice saying those words at their official introduction, and thought that she spoke of her house, Ravenclaw. But now he knew her. It had been a salute to him of sorts, that he had not understood for a long time. She didn't think he was a lackwit. And now, he knew she wasn't crazy. Well, at least not terribly crazy. A bit odd, and a bit clairvoyant, but she was amazing really. She was brave, and she was lovely, growing into her wide round eyes, her hair lightening into a curtain of honey-blond hair. He swallowed, repressing the urge to visit some of his more vivid fantasies of her. She deserved better than to be the object of lust. Still, memories of that train ride inevitably brought to mind a dream he had repeatedly had ever since, where the Mimbulus mimbletonia was not the thing prodded into releasing sticky goo, but he was, thanks to Luna's diligent efforts.

Argh. He focused on the schedule again. _I shouldn't be doing this. It should by all rights be Ron, or really Harry. I'm just not cut out to be a leader like them_. He'd always been plagued by failure. He'd dropped the damn prophesy. He'd tried to stop the Trio from protecting the Sorcerer's Stone. He'd barely survived the attack of Hogwarts, even with the Felix's help. He rubbed his eyes.

_Thud, thud, thuddy, thud_. Luna. Only Luna knocked like that. He flushed, embarrassed by the images that had filled his mind so recently.

"Come in Luna." She entered, an odd combination of grace and distraction, as always. Neville opened his mouth to speak, but Luna answered before words came out of his mouth.

"I gave the assignments to Hermione. How was the meeting with McGonagall?"

"Thanks…it was fine. More work, that's all." He sighed.

"You are doing a fine job, you know. Your grandmother must be proud. I know I am." She walked over to his bookcase, examining the titles as she always did.

_How does she always know exactly what to say to make me feel better? _She bent over, looking at the bottom shelf, her hair brushing the floor as she read upside down. His mouth went dry, presented with the alluring sight of her bottom sticking up at a provocative angle. Suddenly, his headache didn't seem so bad.

"So," his voice was a bit cracked with agitation, though it had deepened into a bass over the last year and a half. "What brings you back here on a Saturday morning? I thought we were meeting later for the DA meeting at three."

She straightened, and gave him one of those looks that seemed to shoot right through him, her huge eyes seeming to penetrate into his very soul. "I had a question."

"Yes?" He swallowed again, suddenly very nervous.

She cocked her head slightly. "Would you like to have intercourse?"

"Pardon?" His eyes bugged out, and his breath stopped. He must have misheard.

"Intercourse. Sex. Shagging. Making love. Fu…"

"Yes, I know what it means. But…well…yes, of course, but…" _Had Luna been about to say what he thought she was?_

"Excellent." She sat on the edge of the bed, and began unbuttoning the buttons on her shirt.

"What! Now?" He stared at her fingers as they worked the buttons through the button holes.

She stopped her hands, and looked up at him. "Well, it is Saturday. And I doubt anyone will interrupt us. And we've got hours until the meeting."

"But…I mean…I…" Godric, what should he do? What if he was terrible? What if he hurt her? He quite liked having a girlfriend. Actually, he quite liked having Luna as his girlfriend. In fact, he rather thought he loved Luna, and really couldn't image his first time being with anyone else. Still….

"You're not sure. Why?" He saw a brief flash of pain in her eyes. "I mean, I thought at one time that you might not like girls…"

He stood up straighter, instantly on the defensive. "I like girls! Most definitely! Exclusively!"

She smiled again. "Well, I rather thought from your reaction when we've been kissing…you're really quite a good kisser, you know. Not that I've had a great deal of experience. Still, you make me feel good."

A bemused and happy smile found its way on to his face. "Really?"

She started on the buttons again, and he could see the edge of a blue lacy bra. "Really." She stopped again, with only one button to go, and Neville still standing absolutely still not five feet away. "Oh, I almost forgot!" She dug in the pocket of her long skirt, pulling out a little vial with a clear liquid in it. She uncorked it, and swallow half, and held the rest out to him. "Here, take this. Hermione and Ginny said it will help."

He walked closer, uncomfortably aware of the gaping shirt and the enticing view she presented. "Hermione? Ginny? You asked them for advice?" He took the vial, and looked at it warily. _Still, if Hermione said it was all right_. He downed the contents.

"No, they were offering it."

He choked slightly. Harry and Ginny, and Ron and Hermione must be… "Er…"

"They wanted us to try that potion. Apparently, they discovered that if you use it and you are in love, it will increase your magical powers, and allow you to feel your partner's sensations." She stood up, and removed her gray shirt, revealing the bra beneath. "They said it worked very well for them. They seemed to think it might be quite important for the war effort." She shimmied slightly, hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her long skirt, and pulling it down, revealing a matching pair of blue panties, leaving her in nothing but her underthings and a butterbeer cap necklace.

He blinked rapidly, trying to process this uncharacteristically clear speech while under the influence of raw lust at the sight of so much of her milky skin. "Love?" That was all he could manage to squeak out when he finally managed to talk. He realized how very close he was to simply pushing her back on the bed and ravishing her, talk and potions and everything be damned. He always hated potions anyway.

She tilted her head again, while kicking off the skirt and her shoes. "I love you, Neville Longbottom. At first I thought I had a case of Nibbling Nighblys when my stomach would flutter when you came in a room, but now I'm quite sure I'm in love."

His stomach dropped, and he felt dizzy for a moment. But then, of course, he had to try and ruin it. "It's not just for the war effort then?"

She stepped closer, and pulled his face to hers. "It wouldn't work anyway if we don't love each other." She kissed him, and he felt his knees go weak. This kiss was so intense, so amazing, he thought he would go insane if he could touch her. He brought a hand up to her waist, safe territory that his hands had wandered to before. Her skin was so soft, like the petals of a flower.

She broke the kiss, "See," she looked down at the bulge in his pants. "You are definitely interested in having intercourse."

"I'm more than interested, Luna. It's just…."

"I haven't done this either, you know. But I've read some books in the Restricted Section..." She started working on his buttons with diligent attention, and he couldn't stop her, no matter how embarrassed he might be.

He had read the same books. And Dean's magazine. But, still…."I don't want to hurt you."

"I'll be fine. I'm really quite sturdy." She tugged at the loose waistband of his pants suddenly, looking down into his boxers with interest. "You do seem pretty big though."

Pleased at the unintended complement, he still couldn't relax, and worries crept into his mind, freezing him as stiff as Petrificus curse. _Could she get pregnant? Could he get her off? Would he come in five seconds?_

"Goodness, you are as stiff as a Snorkback's crest." _Did she mean…_? No…she was rubbing his shoulders, his shirt having been pushed off on to the floor. "Why don't you lie face down on the bed?"

He complied, grateful that she'd allowed him to keep on his pants, and watched as she opened a drawer on the bedstand, looking for something. "I don't…I don't have any…" _What was the word….those Muggle things…cod-noms_?

"Oh, I'm taking something for that, don't worry." She muttered, almost as though she had read this thoughts. He relaxed a bit. She did have an uncanny knack for reading him. He wondered if she was keeping up with Divination classes. She probably could outdo Trelawney on any given day.

"Ah ha!" Her hand emerged with a bottle of lotion, and he blushed, wondering if she released what its purpose was in his drawer. She bounded back, and he felt her climb on top of him, planting her knees of either side of his hips. _Godric, he was hard_, and the feel of her scantily clad bum on the backs of his thighs, even through his pants, was not helping.

"We'll get to that bit later…right now, you need to relax. I ache too." He jumped a bit, as the cold lotion hit the skin of his back, but the warm touch of her hands smoothing it over his tense muscles soon overcame him, and he couldn't help but relax, his mouth open against the comforter of the bed, practically drooling with pleasure as she rubbed his shoulders, his neck, his back.

"That feels good, I can tell. I think the potion is working. Fascinating."

And it was. He could feel pressure on his hands when she pushed against a knot in under his shoulder bone, almost as though he was rubbing something. He also began to realize that the subtle motion of her pelvis pressed against his rear was causing her to be nearly as aroused as he was. His eyes widened with the knowledge that he was feeling what she felt, and that she really wanted him. Neville Longbottom, hopeless, bumbling Neville.

"You aren't you know. Hopeless. You're really quite brave. Every bit as brave as Harry or Ron or…"

He flipped under her, almost causing her to fall, and he clutched her to him suddenly, crushing her mouth in a heated kiss. He loved her, he loved her so much.

"Your turn, my dear." He nodded at the bed, and she moved off of him, lying down on the bed. As he grabbed the lotion, she undid the back clasp of her bra, leaving her back bare from neck to waist. He acted braver than he felt, and pushed his pants down, leaving him in nothing but his boxers, tented out in front of him with the sight of her lying on his bed, waiting for him to touch her.

He mimicked her actions, straddling her thighs, and gasping slightly at the sensation of his cock rubbing her derriere. His eyes glazed a bit, as he realized she had felt him against her and had been quite as excited as he was at the contact. Determined to give her pleasure, he rubbed lotion on his hands, and massaged away the light red mark from the elastic of her brassiere, and bit his lip as she squirmed against him in pleasure.

"Oh, that's nice, Neville. I really do hate those things. A wizard could make a pretty penny if they came up with a charm to replace them." He loved the feel of his hands on her, the unrestricted access to such an expanse of her skin. He could feel a gently push along his own back, and was amazed again at whatever this potion was that Hermione and Ginny had discovered. To know for certain that she was enjoying his touch gave him a confidence that he had lacked up until now whenever he had wanted to go farther than kissing her.

He forged ahead, and leaned into her, pressing his hardness more firmly against her bum, and letting his hands inside the loose fabric of her unclasped bra, touching the sides of her breasts. Her shoulders came off the bed in encouragement, and he reached around her full, massaging her small breasts in his hands, touching her hardened nipples and gasping at the electricity that pulsed through him with her response to his touch there.

She squirmed again, panting, pushing back against his cock, and suddenly he was aware of how very wet she was, her panties soaked with her arousal at his touch. He scooted back, and pulled the fabric with him, revealing her lovely bum and the patch of golden hair hidden beneath the blue panties. She flipped over and threw off the rest of her bra, and opened her arms to him.

"Please?" She asked, her voice small and unsure, so unlike her normally blunt and certain self.

He lay down beside her, and ran a hand over her, touching her nakedness lightly, over shoulders, breasts, stomach, hips and thighs, appreciation glowing in his eyes. Her skin felt like it was on fire, and he could trace the sensations she experienced through progress of that fire over his one body. She arched against his hand as he lightly covered her swollen labia, bringing his fingers into contact with a slick wetness that made him so excited her could barely breathe.

Trying desperately to recall anything he had read, he stroked against her folds, and swore lightly as he felt his cock throb with pleasure, and Luna emit a breathy, "Oh!" He didn't think he would be able to hold out for more than a moment inside her, if this was how good he felt just from touching her. His finger brushed a hardened nub, and he grunted in response to her mewling cry of pleasure.

_Don't worry, Neville. I'll be fine. I want this too_. He was going mad. He was hearing voices. But he looked into her eyes, and realized that she had been speaking to him in his thoughts.

"_Accio_ boxers." Luna whispered. And Neville was shocked as his underwear was whisked off his legs and flew up to Luna's outstretched hand.

"Much better." She nodded, dropping the shorts. Before he could form a thought to question how she had managed that bit of magic without her want, she had stroked the tip of his cock with her fingers, and all thought left him for a moment.

"Luna, you're going to drive me crazy." His fingers were still touching her, and he began to explore, strumming against her clit, and relishing the jerk of her hips against his hand. She continued to stroke him, and he forced himself to focus on her, curiously driving him to run and finger deeper, seeking the entrance that must be there.

She shook beneath him, and he knew that it was not pain, but awed delight that filled her as his finger sank into her vagina. Her hand fell away from him, and she gripped the comforter in her hands, arching against him. She was hot, and wet, and….holy Merlin, he wanted to be inside her.

She brought a leg up, opening wider, the gleaming pink tissue incredibly alluring as he stared down between their bodies. She wrapped her leg around his thighs, bring him closer to her, and he could not longer resist the demands of his body, however noble he tried to be. He settled between her thighs, and removed his fingers from her. Rolling back his foreskin, he held himself against her folds, and slowly sank his cock into her, and she gripped his hips, her fingers digging into his skin in eagerness.

_Yes_. It felt so, so good. He wasn't sure if it was his own thoughts or hers that he felt, but he was swamped with the dual feeling of her warm walls sliding against him and the sensation of being slowly filled. His toes curled as he forced himself to go slowly, and when he ran into a hard barrier, he swallowed nervously, knowing that there was no way not to cause pain.

_Now_. He thrust, and they both cried out, the sharp tearing pain filling both their minds for a moment. He gritted his teeth, and bent over her, holding her to him in comfort, just as much for himself as for her. His lips brushed her ear. "I love you, Luna Lovegood."

"I know." He could feel her smile. "That was not as bad as I had feared. You can move now, if you want to. I don't mind."

The urgency that had driven him had been somewhat lessened by the bout of pain, so though he was still caught within her tightness, he was able to fight against his instinct to move. He pushed up on to his hands, and winced at the pleasure-pain of sensation radiated from where they joined. He looked down into Luna's wide eyes, and bent to kiss her, to stir the passion that he'd seen in her eyes just minutes ago. The kiss was lush, overpowering, with the onslaught of being kisser and kissed all at once.

She jerked her hips in response, and they both groaned, this time in pleasure. _More_. He moved his hips, and it was better, more pleasure, less pain. His control came from her discomfort, her pleasure from his pleasure. Soon discomfort was forgotten as they were both swept up in the relentless driving motion that made up the physical act of love. Climax burst upon them together, white hot in its power to fragment the senses and fill the soul.

Afterward, Neville caressed the side of Luna's face, still awestruck that she had given him such a gift. He felt he could never he parted from this woman, and he kicked himself that he could have ever imagined himself with another woman from the moment he first saw her.

She smiled her dreamy smile, "That's all right, Neville. I know you used to fancy Ginny." He shook his head, but she went on. "I fancied Ron at one point. Don't know what I ever saw in him. Used to chase him around like a lovesick nurgle. Quite ridiculous. I'm much happier with you." She lay her head on his chest, and he stroked her hair, contentment filling him. Her earrings, little enchanted flutterby bush flowers that he had given her for her birthday a month previously, shook lightly where they brushed his skin.

_I like being here, it's quite comfortable actually_. He smiled in response to her thoughts.

_And I hope you'll visit more often_.

Then, when he was almost asleep, an odd filmy mist seemed to seep into his eyes, and he no longer saw the Gryffindor red canopy of his bed, but a dimly lit kitchen table, surrounded by members of the Order. Harry, and Lupin and Tonks, and…there was a bird carrying a package, and then a vial of potion, and Harry pulled out his wand, and destroyed the thing with a _Reducto_ curse. A sense of dread filled him, that this was a very, very bad idea. He heard the unearthly laughter of his nemesis, Bellatrix Lestrange, and he knew he had to do something.

Luna rolled off of him, and stared into his eyes. "We've got to warn them! Or it will be too late…"

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"Thank you, Molly, but I think we'd prefer speed above anything else. Especially in the middle of a war. You and Madame Delacour achieved a fantastic event, really, but I think we'd like something simple. At least, until my Mum finds out about it…" Tonks bit her lip, and Remus Lupin gave a little smile at that familiar gesture on the part of the woman he loved.

He really didn't want to interrupt the discussion. Molly had been so pleased for them, and Tonks had glowed with happiness, but, it needed to be said. He cleared his throat. "Umm…ladies…I…I hate to be a spoilsport, but I doubt we can obtain a license anyway. I…I wasn't really thinking clearly I suppose."

Tonks looked a bit dumbstruck, and the look of sadness that followed nearly broke his heart.

"Nonsense. That is a whole lot of nonsense, Remus. We'll simply do a Lifebond Test. They can't argue then. The Ministry can't really do a thing about it."

Remus blinked, amazed that he had not thought of such a thing himself. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off.

"Oh, Mrs. Weasley, I would really like to see that. Can anyone do a Lifebond Test? I thought it could only happen at certain ceremonies? It's only in that one wedding planner book that Phlegm…I mean Fleur had lying about." Hermione Granger, carrying a stack of books, had walked in, followed by Ron, carrying even more books, Harry, and Ginny.

"Ginny! Oh Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley descended in a rush, and hugged her youngest tightly.

"Mum, mum, let me breath!" Ginny said jokingly.

"It's just so good to see you, Ginny. I've been so worried. I…I thought that you had some way of getting between school and Grimmauld, but I wasn't sure."

Ginny flushed slightly, and Remus observed Harry running a nervous hand through his hair. He wondered just how much Molly had guess about the activities of her youngest children and their chosen partners.

"It's good I've made enough lunch for everyone then. I should whip up something special though. Nymphadora…"

"Tonks!"

"Tonks and Remus have just announced they are getting married! Isn't that wonderful!"

Hermione and Ginny proceeded to squeal, and Harry and Ron looked slightly nervous, and then proceeded to congratulate him with manly pats on the back.

"Excellent, Moony, I'm sure you'll be very happy." Harry smiled, and stole a glance at Ginny, who was looked at him with a slightly wistful expression.

"Yeah, we thought that the potion would work out well. You look much better than usual mate. Ow!" Hermione had elbowed Ron in the ribs, and mouthed "_No potion_" while gesturing toward Molly, who fortunately was still busy sizing up Harry and Ginny.

Hermione was still angling for an answer to her question, and asked Remus instead. "So, would a Lifebond allow you to get married, despite the Ministry laws on werewolfs?"

"Yes, I think. But it's really quite rare you know. Bill and Fleur were quite lucky really."

Harry had wandered over, picking up a roll from the table. "Was that the little bit in the wedding with the blue light? I..I wasn't paying attention much."

Remus chuckled. In truth, every time he'd looked at Harry, Harry was staring with sad, longing eyes at Ginny, who had been lovely in a gold bridesmaid dress, and managed to not look at him throughout the whole ceremony. At least, not when Harry would notice. Tonks answered Harry. "Yes, before almost any wizarding wedding, the couple is tested for a Lifebond. They are really pretty rare, what with there being so few wizards. It's a sign of a lasting…umm…fruitful bond. It's so strong, that the Ministry really couldn't try and object, since they can't really prevent it. It's like the couple have been married since they were born."

"Arthur and I have one." Molly smiled. "And we've had more children than any wizarding couple in generations." Remus had a sudden flash of Tonks heavily pregnant, and was filled with a longing he hadn't even realized he had. If he was free of his horrible transformations, if he now had a hope for a normal lifespan, and the ability to control the wolf….he could really have a family. She flashed him a huge smile, obviously reading his mind, and his heart jumped a bit. _If we both make it through this war, we'll have a dozen, I swear._

She winked at him. _A lovely brood of multicolor werewolf cubs_ (A.N. sorry, but I had to work that lovely phrase in here somewhere!) Tonks then turned to Hermione. "I don't think we'll need to have a big fancy ceremony for a Lifebond Trial, though I'm sure my mother would love to do something…."

Remus let his thoughts drift away from the conversation. He really didn't want to think of what Andromeda Tonks was going to think of her lovely young daughter Lifebonded to a destitute werewolf a decade her senior. He flinched as Tonks kicked him under the table, no doubt catching a whiff of his self-deprecating thoughts. Remus had once had dinner with Andromeda and her family, and he remembered Tonks when she was a young child, and he was in the later years of Hogwarts. Sirius had long abandoned his family, and Andromeda had been the only relative who would still talk to the Black who was in Gryffindor.

His thoughts drifted sadly to Sirius, and how much he wished Sirius might stand up with him at his wedding or bonding ceremony or whatever it was to be, as he and Sirius had done for James and Lily. He glanced at the full table, which Sirius should have headed, and which Hermione and Harry were setting for lunch. Ginny was asking more questions of Tonks and Molly, and Ron…Ron was doing something very odd. He was reading….well, maybe he was just trying to avoid a conversation about something dangerously close to weddings, but his brilliant red hair was buried in a book, Merlin and a Journey Through Time. In fact, most of the stack that Hermione and Ron had been lugging about seemed to have something to do with Merlin. A Life of Merlin, Merlin and the Power UnRevealed, Merlin Mysterious….

What did Merlin have to do with finding a Horcrux? He asked a question in a low tone, unsure how much Molly was aware of what the young people were doing. "Ron, that's an interesting book you have there….have you found anything interesting about Merlin that might relate to…to our present situation."

Ron looked up suddenly, his face stained with a slight blush. He looked pleased to have something to focus on instead of emotional topics. "Umm…right. Well, not so much about the Hor…" he looked at his mother, "…about those things we were looking for, but maybe about…the abilities that we seem to have acquired lately. There was a mention in one of Hermione's books that Merlin may have experimented with something similar. There was even a mention that he traveled through a Veil of some sort…."

"What!" Water splashed the table as Harry dropped his wand in the midst of filling water glasses. Everyone's attention turned to him. "Merlin managed to pass through a Veil?"

"Oh, Harry, we never got to tell you….Ron found something really interesting about Merlin using some power linked to love in order to cross through a Veil…"

"Then, you mean, we could bring back Sirius? Dumbledore?" Harry asked, his eyes suddenly eager. Ginny went to grip his hand, an action that Molly noted. Remus felt his stomach clench, and a tiny hope rise that perhaps his best friend, and even his mentor, were not lost to them completely.

Hermione bit her lip. "Well, the one book said that it was the Veil of Time…and that it went terribly wrong, and Merlin started aging backward after he tried."

"But he lived, didn't he?" Harry was insistent, clutching at some progress, at something good.

Ron answered. "Yes…and, and he said that the spell hadn't worked right anyway. That he hadn't harnessed the full extent of the power of…of love."

"It's not the Veil of Time in the Department of Mysteries." Remus interjected, his heart heavy. "It's the Veil of Death. Dumbledore named it on the night that Sirius…passed through."

There was a deafening silence to this statement. Ginny was the one to break it. "Could we at least talk to someone in it? Harry and Luna said they heard voices. Maybe we could talk to Sirius, or Dumbledore…."

"And he wants to get out!" Harry spoke up again, "I dreamt it last night. Dumbledore was trying to tell me something…and Sirius was there, saying that he was coming, that he was almost there."

Everyone at the table stared open-mouthed at Harry. The Boy-Who-Lived had had too many dreams that turned out to have significance for them to immediately discount his dream as wishful thinking. They all started to talk at once.

"What was Dumbledore trying…" said Hermione.

"Do you think it was You-Know-Who again?" said Mrs. Weasley.

"Are you sure, Harry? Are you sure?" Remus whispered, though it seemed to be the loudest statement in the room. "Are you sure he's still there, he hasn't moved on?"

Silence reigned again. But it didn't last, there was a loud tapping at the tiny kitchen window up toward the ceiling of the basement kitchen.

"An owl? At this hour?" Molly bustled over to the window, sliding the catch. In flew a giant bird, bright blue and iridescent green, from some far off exotic land. It was just like the birds Sirius had used to send when he was first in hiding, wherever Dumbledore had sent him. When it passed through the window, a sound like the pealing of over a hundred klaxons, filled the room, and everyone stood up, dishes clattering to the floor as seven wands were raised and pointed at the invading creature.

The bird fluttered over the kitchen table, obviously in distress and the deafening sound of alarms, but it did nothing particularly evil, other than hover, holding in its claws a package with a note tied to it.

Remus muttered an incantation, and the alarms died down. Dobby appeared, in obvious distress at the noise, "What be the matter? What has happened!"

"Snape." Said Remus, his voice icy cold. "Something from this bird has been touched by Severus Snape.

Harry raised his wand, ready to blast a hex at the exotic creature that was surely something evil, when the kitchen fireplace turned green, and Neville Longbottom stuck his head through. "Don't touch it! Don't do anything, we'll get there as soon as we can. It's very important." With a pop, he was gone, leaving everyone in the kitchen thoroughly confused. The bird fluttered down on to the table, obviously exhausted, and plunked its beak into a goblet of water, drinking with relish and oblivious to the seven wizards surrounding it with death on their minds.


	11. Who Do We Trust

Sorry, this chapter is all plot, no lemons. But I've got a lot I have to get to. Next chapter, is Draco and Ixchel's ceremony. Very different from my usual style, at least I think so. A bit off the vanilla track, at least.

Hope everyone in the States had a Happy Thanksgiving. My ear problem is getting better, so hopefully I will be able to update sooner.

And I promise….Sirius will come back soon….but plot must take place first!

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"So, you are staying here then? You should be safe." Severus sat on the floor, surrounded by reams of parchment, books and even an animated codex of the Itza. He looked up at the young man standing before him, and felt a flash of tremendous pride that such a fine specimen was his son. Draco had always been intelligent, as well as devious. He only wished he would be able to see what Draco would make of his new life here, a life away from Death Eaters and the burden of being a Malfoy. The mate of a priestess of the moon, who would have thought?

"No. I'm going back. And she's coming with me. It's part of the binding." Cool gray eyes, still filled with a seething anger, said without words that he would brook no argument.

"He'll kill you. They'll kill her." _They won't want you, Draco. You're not as empty as they are_.

"Not if I kill him first." Severus blinked. "Did you think I would go back to join the Death Eaters?" Draco sneered. "Do you really think I am that stupid? I'd like nothing better than to be rid of this," he thrust forward the Dark Mark, naked upon his left arm. "To be rid of all of it. But I can't depend on Potter and his simpering sidekicks to do anything right by themselves. If I ever want any peace, I'd better do something to help."

Severus pursed his lips. "He'd want you to be safe, Draco. He wouldn't want you to risk for life just because you made a mistake in judgment. You didn't kill him."

"No, you did, you killed Dumbledore! And that concubine that calls herself my mother made you do it, in order to protect me." Draco began to pace, kicking aside the carefully organized piles of notes that little the shade in front of the hut. He stopped abruptly, looking out toward the forest. "You had to be bound to it. Bound by an Unbreakable Vow. To save your reputation, not to help your own son."

Severus dropped his head, unable to answer. His own pain ate as his heart, the pain of watching his child, and its mother, suffer over the course of years at the hands of Lucius Malfoy.

Draco's voice had not lost any of its dreadful coldness, and Severus peered at him through a curtain of dark hair as Draco pulled no punches. "And you are still bound. If I die, you will die. Is that why you fled the Dark Lord, to save your own skin? Is that why you want me to stay? To ensure your own safety? I assure you, I'll capture lovely Auntie Bellatrix and get the damn thing undone as soon as possible. I'm sure Bella could do with some of her own taste of Crucio? Then you can go back to your precious master and claim all the credit you desire. You will have finally completed your domination of Lucius Malfoy."

"Don't do that Draco. Don't make the same mistakes I have. Don't live your life for revenge. Not against your fath…against me, or Lucius, or anyone else."

Draco whirled around. "So you don't deny it? That you only care for your own skin?"

"Mine. And yours. And your mother's. I have no great wish to die."

"Not even for Dumbledore?"

"He knew about the Vow, Draco. He wanted me to protect you. He knew he would not survive a Second War with the Dark Lord."

"So you say." Draco shut his eyes, unwilling to think.

"He cared about all of us, Draco. More than we deserved." Severus heard the pain in his own whisper. "Don't waste that on some silly attempt to get back at Lucius. Don't let him have succeeded in making you as coldheartedly ruthless as…"

"As you?" The fire returned to Draco's eyes.

Severus paused. There was no winning this battle now. "I am going back to England, to try and help with the defeat of the Dark Lord. I have something that Potter and his gang will need if he hopes to be successful."

Draco laughed. "You'll have quite a hard time convincing them not to kill you on sight! You'll be hexed six ways from Sunday."

Severus arched an eyebrow. "I could say the same for you, my son."

"Don't call me that. I don't need you. I have no father."

Teeth clenched, Severus turned his attention back to his copious notes. He had a lot of work to do before he journey back to England. "Then you won't find if a former professor tags along on your trip back to England with your girlfriend."

"My wife."

"It isn't exactly the same here, Draco. She's a priestess. She can't stay with you."

"I know." He stalked off. And paused. "You will leave my mother here. She wouldn't…she shouldn't have to face my…Lucius again."

"I have every intention of assuring that personally."

"Get in line, old man. Get in line."

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"He looks exhausted." Ginny said.

The Order of the Phoenix members stood around, wands still drawn, staring at the exotic bird who looked around the kitchen with an air of tired amusement.

Ron, his brow furrowed, filled the silence."You think it could have been Snape in the Floo? You think it's a bam, on a timer charm or something?"

"A bomb Ron, not a bam." Hermione bit her lip, thinking furiously. "I seriously doubt Professor…Snape would have chosen to impersonate Neville, of all people, in order to deceive us."

Harry snorted. "I wouldn't put anything past the Greasy Git. The man was a triple agent. He would stoop to any lengths."

Ginny stepped forward, and prodded at the small brown box with her wand. Mrs. Weasley let out an outraged, "Ginevra Weasley! Stop that, we don't know if it's cursed."

"I'm just trying to get a look at the note, Mum!" Ginny squinted at it from three feet away. Harry gripped her hand tightly, trying to pull her back to shield her with his body.

"I-V and then G-I-A-N-N-I." Ginny stepped back, and both her mother and Harry breathed a little easier. "No address, nothing."

"Somebody can't spell." Tonks piped up, almost cheerful, despite the tension.

Harry rolled his eyes. "When the bloody hell will Neville…."

There was a commotion on the stairs, and Neville and Luna crashed into the room, looking extremely out of breath, and extremely disheveled, with most of their buttons done up completely wrong.

"That didn't take long Luna!" Ginny laughed out loud. Luna smiled serenely, and Neville blushed scarlet.

Tonks looked at Hermione. "Potion?"

Hermione nodded. "Potion."

Ron and even Harry managed a small guffaw at that. Remus merely cracked a smile.

Harry recovered quickly though. "What was that all about then, Neville? Do you know this blasted bird came from Snape?"

Eyes rounded in shock, both Neville and Luna shook their heads. Neville, still panting for breath, "No…it was just we had…"

"A vision." Luna finished.

Silence.

"Exactly." Neville added. "It would be a very bad idea to destroy that package."

"Is it a bomb or something? Will it explode?"

"No, it's something important. Something that will help us." Neville seemed utterly certain.

"Have you taken leave of your senses! It's from Snape!" Ron exploded.

"The man who killed Albus Dumbledore." Harry stated quietly. A pain almost audible flashed through the room.

Remus spoke, a thoughtful look upon his face. "Are you sure this was a vision? Not some planted spell, or a false message of some kind."

"No, it's real." Luna sighed. "I've been seeing little flashes of things that I shouldn't see, things happening far away or in the near future. Ever since fifth year, but particularly strong in the last few months. I thought it might be a whellump infection, or that thing Muggles have…degu va…"

"Déjà vu." Nodded Harry, eager for her to continue.

"But after…" she blushed, a very uncharacteristic action on Luna's part. "Well, this was the strongest I've ever had. And Neville saw it too."

"Whatever that potion was…it worked."

Ginny turned to Harry, "I believe them, Harry. The Lovegoods have seers in the line, not recently, but if Trelawney can see things sometimes…"

Hermione spoke then, the others hadn't noticed how quiet she'd been, lost deep in thought. "I-V Gianni. It's 'For Nagini'. I'm certain of it."

The group jumped back as a cloud of ink jumped up from the tag on the package, taking form just above the box. The bird looked alarmed, and Remus aimed a wand carefully, severing the tie that bound the bird to the box. The bird hopping backward, and flew out through the bird, crying words that sounded suspiciously like a language, but something far from English.

The cloud took shape, and Harry drew in a harsh breath in response at the sight of a black and white image of his enemy.

"Greetings Miss Granger. I assume it is you, for I doubt that the dunderheads you associate yourself with could have figure out even this simple riddle. Still, I must complement you on either your stupidity at not having proper wards in place to detect my presence, or your wisdom in not blasting this package into smithereens without ascertaining if the contents would not take well to such treatment."

"Shut up, you slimy traitor…" Harry burst out.

"Hush. It's a recording of some kind, it can't respond." Hermione said, watching the image intently.

"This box contains a vial of poison. But it is not an attempt on your lives, though I'm sure Potter will not believe anything to the contrary. Suffice it to say, that I am just as likely to die from the actions of the Dark Lord as any of you, and I call him my enemy. You would hardly call me your friend, but I am the enemy of your enemy, and I am acquainted with some of his weaknesses. Albus…"

A flash of emotion entered the sneering face, but fled before it could be identified.

"Albus told me of many things…"

"He trusted you, you…" Harry could not stop himself, despite the glares from the rest of the group.

"…including some of his suspicions regarding the reason that the Dark Lord can not be completely killed. I do not know how many pieces exist, but one must exist in his pet, which he never lets out of his sight. If that is so, then you will need this to overcome the problems spoken of on page three hundred and seventy seven of the book that Potter appropriated so fortuitously last year. As far as approaching the victim, that I'm afraid is your problem. Adieu."

The image vanished, and chaos erupted.

"I don't trust a word of it." Ron stated categorically.

"What on earth is that man talking about, Ron? Harry?" Mrs. Weasley gave a furious glare at her youngest son and his best friend.

Tonks crouched close to the table, approaching the box with the tip of her wand, as though testing for any proximity wards.

"Careful, love." Remus warned.

Tonks shook her head. "Nothing. There's nothing else remotely enchanted about it now that it's given its message."

"I'll open it." Harry stated unequivocally.

"Harry…" Ginny warned in a concerned tone.

"I won't have anyone else hurt…but I expect you to be there with a shield charm." Ginny nodded resolutely. "Every one else, back off."

Mrs. Weasley made a grunt of protest, but Remus and the others did as they were told, though Ron and Hermione clutched their wands tightly.

Harry prodded at the package with his wand, and then gingerly picked it up. Unwrapping it, he found a sturdy wooden box. Lifting the lid rapidly, tension evident in his features, revealed a single vial of yellow, viscous liquid. There was no bang, no possession, nothing except a simple phrase written on a scrap of parchment.

_Nothing is ever as simple as it seems_.

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Wormtail, the man who had once been Peter Pettigrew, the rat who had once been Scabbers, crouched at the trapdoor beneath the floor of the drawing room of Malfoy Manor, listening to the voices above him. Pallid and listless, the sad excuse for a man, much less a wizard, wore rags that hung from his skinny frame, where sacks of loose skin drooped around his jowls and midsection. He had once been plump, both as a man and a rat, but now he was starved, both physically and mentally, driven mad by countless rounds of regret and anger. His nose twitched as he listened to the longed-for dressing down of the owner of the house.

The cold, inhuman tone of the Dark Lord echoed softly through the cracks in the door and into in the darkness of the cavern below. "Lucius, I am not surprised at your ineptitude at this task, given your performance in the Department of Mysteries, but I would have thought that finding your wife, much less your only son, would have filled you with a bit more drive."

Lucius, whispered, his voice devoid of the anger he certainly felt and took out frequently on Wormtail since he had been "given" to Malfoy senior. "Forgive me, my Lord. I do not mean to disappoint. But Snape is a cunning man."

"Do not mention that name to me!" The fierce fury that filled the icy voice left no doubt as to the Dark Lord's next actions.

"_Crucio!_"

Proud Lucius Malfoy whimpered with the pain that filled him, and Wormtail made a grimace, feeling a bit of justice to have entered his bleak world. Still, after a few minutes, and time to allow for the recovery of his faculties, Lucius whispered, his tone properly cowed, "I will find them, my Lord. They are not in England, but I will find them."

"You will, Lucius. For I doubt that miserable half-blood will stay away for much longer. He thrives too much on intrigue. However, I have another task for you at the moment."

The Dark Lord went on to detail a plan for a Dementor attack in the heart of London, one which would demonstrate His considerable power without a shadow of a doubt. Wormtail left his post, shuffling down the spiral staircase to the chamber which had contained generations worth of Dark Arts treasurers before Arthur Weasley had made his latest successful raid. Lucius had only been allowed by the Dark Lord to return recently, and took out his considerable anger at the loss of his families' possession, his wife and his daughter with frequent attacks of violent anger. Wormtail bore the resulting scars.

_It was not fair_. _It was not right._ But nothing about the Dark Lord was fair, or right. Wormtail had sacrificed his hand, had sacrificed everything, had lived for a dozen years as an animal, had almost single-handedly made it possible for His return to corporeal existence. He should be the trusted confidant, the man with influence and power, the man to lead a mission. Not Snape, who had fled at the moment of triumph, leaving a puzzled and angered Dark Lord, who was afraid at the meaning of his defection. And not Lucius, who was too proud and too cowardly to be an effective leader. But Peter would not be powerful, would not be influential. He would never be.

Faces haunted him, making it impossible for him to sleep. Trapped, cornered in a dark room, Remus Lupin stared with dangerous eyes, Sirius lunged, with a violence born of twelve years worth of righteous anger, and James…no…Harry, Harry looked on, and ordered them to stop. James' son, who had more right to despise him than anyone alive, James' son had saved him.

And he had repaid him with nothing but violence.

And he had earned nothing from it.

He had no reason to live, and he was scared to die. Why had he even been placed in Gryffindor? Lost, pathetic little rat that he was. He had betrayed everything and everyone who had ever been good to him, because he wanted power. Because he was scared to earn it.

The memory of the one thing he ever had and had lost irrevocably haunted him most. The love of his friends.

He did not mind when the other slaves of the Dark Lord called him Wormtail. Demeaning him, making him less than a man, calling him a rat. For an instant, just an instant, he could remember being part of a pack. Being a Marauder.

He could remember feeling loved.

And that was the most painful memory of all.


	12. Draco and Ixchel

First of all, I would truly and deeply like to thank all of my amazing reviewers, who have pulled me out of a depression resulting from the combination of my weird inner ear problem and the rejection letters I've been getting from book agents. You give me confidence that I am not a terrible author. I'm sorry that his update is so long in coming. I will do my best to write faster from now on.

That said, I must label this chapter with warnings. I usually write WAFF, vanilla flavored, nicey nice sex. The kind I like to fantasize about. This is a bit more harsh. It involves blood (more than just a hymen), a bit of violence (but not a lot), possession (by spirits), a certain amount of exhibitionism. It's not very gory or horrible, but it is a portrayal of a religious ceremony of a completely mythical nature, with the barest hint of actual Mayan ceremonial practices. I have no intention of insulting anybody or anything. You have been warned.

Words in the Quiche language (a Mayan dialect) are indicated by rather than ""

Thanks to TheDivaDivine, my beta!

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The eerie greenish glow of the local brand of wizard light made the cave in which he was being prepared seem otherworldly, even to someone as jaded as Draco Malfoy. A low chanting surrounded him, and he wasn't sure whether it was done by a group of men hidden somewhere in the twisted passageways, or some kind of charm meant to add to the ceremony. He could see only two wizened old men, neither of which spoke a word of English, who were preparing him for the ceremony to come.

His Quiche had improved with months spent in Chen'Itza, but it was far from perfect. Ixchel's Aunt, who spoke remarkably good English, had spent a good deal of time explaining the ceremony in all of its gory detail two days ago, before he had entered the cave to fast. It had been remarkably embarrassing, even if he wasn't the blushing virgin. Still, Mayan ceremonies were remarkable different from anything in the supposedly civilized world of wizarding England. Blood magic, sex magic, these were not the Dark things that they were in his world. Here, there was a much more subtle line between good and evil, and the Itza did not seek to distance themselves from a potent magic simply because it involved pain or some sacrifice. There was much here to respect, and Draco could not help but be drawn to it. Perhaps, if he lived, he could return here one day, free to live in a world that was both simpler, and more complex, than Britain.

He had been standing for an hour, on legs weakened from a full night and day of sitting sit, meditating and fasting, to cleanse himself and to allow the god, Kukulkan, to enter him. A bunch of rubbish perhaps, but it would not do to insult these people, so he had done it with remarkably little protest. Perhaps part of him wanted to believe. The two wizards swept their sacred fans, rigid poles tipped in bright feathers and colored stone, unique to each individual and used as European wizards used their wands. They were covering his skin with symbols, altering his appearance to imbue power and symbolism to the ceremony. Finally, as his knees began to shake from exhaustion, they motioned him to turn, and he could see himself, arrayed as a god.

His skin had been painted a brilliant chalky white, but little of the white could been seen, covered as it was with symbols in red, yellow and green. On his arms, snakes, staffs of corn, harsh angles and geometrics, symbols of masculinity and power. His abdomen, a boat, the symbol of Kukulkan returning to the Itza, beginning wisdom and power. His chest, the feathered serpent. So potent to a Slytherin. The revered form of the god.

He wore a loincloth, but no other clothing. Ankles and wrists were covered in gold and jade, his ears had been pierced with ear spools of bright green jade. His neck encased in a collar of gold and red carnelian that would have made Lucius Malfoy quite envious. A mask covered his eyes, but his face, his hair….oh, Salazar's balls….he had a short beard now, and his hair…both now a dark auburn. _He had no desire to deflower a woman looking like a blasted Weasley!_

He gestured at his hair angrily, wishing he could recall the right words to express his displeasure, but the two men frowned and narrowed there eyes, shaking their heads in tandem. This was a necessary alternation then. Damn.

He followed his two guides into the next room of the cave network, and knelt in front of a brazier, filled with the potent copal incense that the Itza marked ceremony with. The painting of kings and gods around him moved eerily on the walls around him, carrying a stately grace and power that were familiar and yet foreign at the same time, dark faces and dark eyes staring down at him, judging him a foreigner, and questioning his right to be initiated into the holiest of Mayan rights, to make a blood offering to the gods.

He had been unsurprised when Ixchel's aunt, the priestess Sa'pal, had told him of the bloodletting. But it still was a fearful thing for any man, and he could not help but feel the knot of tension in his gut that threatened to swallow him whole, and had tortured him through a fair bit of the "meditation" that he was supposed to have been doing last night.

Sa'pal had explained it simply. "Ixchel, she will give up blood then. The holiest and most sacred blood for any woman. You must do the same. Be glad that it is not required that you draw a rope through the wound, as was done by kings and ahau of the past."

There was a jade pendant on the floor, the size of a closed fist, with a deep depression in its center, a stark white against the veined green of the stone. Beside it, rested the spine of a stingray, long and, Draco hoped, sufficiently sharp. This was not something that he wanted to do at all, much less with a dull blade. A single strip of paper, made from the bark of sacred trees, sat next to the spine.

His watchers stood back along the walls, looking at him through hooded eyes, evaluating if he would continue, or deprive their priestess of her power for another full cycle of thirteen moons. Draco was not a coward, not in this. He might have been in the past, but he had seen too much now. He'd been through too much…he pushed away the sudden flood of memories from the astronomy tower. This was for Ella. He could do this.

He tugged off the stark white loincloth, determined to finish this as quickly as possible, before his nerves and the lack of sustenance made him faint. He picked up the spine in his right hand, gripping it in a clammy hand, and held his penis in the other, pulling tight his skin of his foreskin, far away as possible from the glans. With a deep breath of the smoky, sweet smelling air, he pierced the skin, and disciplined his features not to portray the pain. Blood welled from the wound, and dripped in a dark red cascade into the well of the amulet below him.

He dropped the spine, and stanched the flow of blood with the paper. When the bleeding had stopped, he threw the paper into the fire with a muttered Quiche phrase, and there was a brilliant flash of purple fire, so dark it seemed to glow black. The same light flashed across the opening of the well into which he had bled, sealing the amulet for the moment. He picked up the stone, and tried to stand, but was lifted by the two men, who seemed a touch more approving than they had five minutes before.

Drink. One of the men held up a wide, shallow bowl of a milky liquid swirling with sparks of the same purple-black light that he had seen earlier. Hoping it wasn't poison, he drank, and he felt his strength return with this Itza version of an invigorating draught. He was no longer tired, or hungry, or thirsty, but was filled with a kind of barely suppressed energy that made his heart beat a little faster. The edges of his vision blurred slightly, and he moved forward under the guidance of the two old Itza shamans, until he was at the mouth of the cave, with a dozen men crowding around him, and lifting him into a shallow reed boat.

He felt distant from the proceedings, as the boat lifted into the air. An honor guard surrounded him, guiding the levitating raft up, out of the cave, across the wide expanse of a formal courtyard, which was swathed in the blackness of the jungle night. Before his eyes, one of the immense pyramids dotted throughout the city became crystal clear as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The men surrounding him began a low chant, which hummed through his body, make every nerve spark with awareness, too bright and sharp to be normal. The boat rose slowly, as the procession made its way up the insanely steep sides of the pyramid, up steps that could not be traversed safely without the aid of magic.

Draco looked up to see the thinnest crescent moon possible caress the very top of the structure. It then it hit him, hard. He was going to Ella. Finally going to be with her. She would belong to him, with him, for at least the next year. He would have something that was his, wholly his, for the first time in a long time. Longing filled him, and raw need followed on his heels. His blood pulsed with it, his ears rang, and he felt as though he had completely lost control. That he could move, or think or breathe until he could see her, be with her. The loss of control frightened him, and angered him immensely. He fought against it, realizing that something else was at work here, not just his own closely guarded emotions, but something in that damned potion. He was not in control of his own body, his own mind.

They reached the top of the steps, and the boat lowered. He stood, naked but for the paint and the jeweled adornments, and walked forward, but it was not him controlling the actions of his body. He raged inside, fighting against whatever it was occupying his body, his mind. The men did not follow, and he walked under the lintel and into a room glowing with soft red light. Another chant took the place of the low hum of the men, this time of women keening low and deep. His eyes adjusted yet again, and his breath caught.

Ella…no, not Ella…Ixchel was arrayed on some sort of padded couch, alone on the raised dais in the center of the room. There were eight chanting women arrayed around the edges of the room, their gaze intent on Ixchel, as though funneling her power. And it showed. She glowed with it. Her skin, covered with painted images as his had been, shone as though lit from within, giving a strange life to the spirals and curves that twined sinuously along her limbs, black and red against a white background. Her wrists shone with a brilliant silver light, which he supposed must be some kind of enchanted bracelet. A painted black circle encompassed her upper torso and the top of her breasts, and the phases of the moon glowed white amongst the black, and rabbits crouched as though about to leap from her shoulders. Her breasts were bare except for the paint, the tips embedded within an intricate spiral design. He felt his arousal build at the sight of her, her long legs splayed open, inviting, awaiting him, with nothing between them but a beaded apron with the same swirling designs in red and black, which covered her hips.

Well, nothing but that apron and the eight other people in the room. And the fact that she was a virgin. And the fact that he had just skewered his privates and should not be thinking about sex right now. And the fact that something or someone else seemed to be possessing his body.

Something seemed to be possessing her as well. The warm brown eyes that he had dreamed of for months had been replaced by silver-white orbs, otherworldly in their brilliance. He felt drawn in by them, unable to resist the combination of whatever force battled him for control of his limbs and the power evident in her eyes. Then she spoke, a deep, resonant sound, full of knowledge and passion and immense age.

The Moon greets the Feathered Serpent. It is time to be One. 

He strode forward, crossing the hard stone floor and kneeling before her amongst the cushions she reclined on. Those eyes, so silver and piercing, inhuman and all-knowing; they spoke of promises of unending pleasure, limitless knowledge, and most of all, of unparalleled power.

He ceased fighting the primal urges of his body, and the entity within him seeking to take control, whether the avatar of a god or simply his own darker nature, took control. Disregarding the eight watchers and the low hum they continued to chant, he dove forward, gripping the full hips of the woman before him and ripping off the apron that was held by the thinnest of strings at her waist. They were both gloriously naked, and her sex was glistening and wet, and he was blinded in a fog of lust, forgetting her innocence, the audience; everything but the most basic of calls. He plunged into her, breaking the thin barrier of her hymen with brutal force.

She flinched. It was the tiniest movement, in marked contrast to the raw lust on her face and contained in the glowing silver eyes, but it reminded him for the briefest instant that Ella was somewhere in there, within the goddess that surrounded his pulsing flesh. A tiny part of him was horrified, a part of his soul that had remained buried for years, and had only a few months of use. And another part of him was filled with power, reveling in the dominance. All of that was eclipsed by whatever was controlling his body, and he drove into her again, pounding into her tight wet heat, the slap of flesh beating a counterpoint to the escalating ululation of the witnesses. He grunted, she moaned, and power flared behind her eyes, eyes that stared into his face, pinning him as though capturing his soul.

It was not gentle, or brutal, it was primal. It simply was. The act of sex at its most basic level. The luscious body underneath him clutched at him and she shook ever so slightly, and he reached his peak, spending himself within her, and collapsing forward, barely catching his weight on his arms before crushing her. He swallowed, his mouth dry, and gasped for air. He felt control of his body and mind flood back to him.

He held at bay the injured pride and anger that flooded him, knowing that it would wait until after the blasted ceremony was completed. He looked up into her face, but those glowing eyes were closed. He had had no guidance but the brief instruction from Ella's aunt. He spared a contemptuous look for the chanting women who were still staring at the two still intimately joined.

He pulled away from her, and found the amulet that he did not remember dropping had fallen beside him amongst the cushions. He picked it up, and at his touch, the deep purple glow sealing the reservoir disappeared and he almost dropped the hard won liquid it contained. Still, he managed to steady himself, and masking his emotions with a wrathful sneer, he made quick work of the blood and semen coating both of their thighs. As he mixed it with his own blood already in the container, the infernal humming by the women watches ceased abruptly, and the huge flare of deep purple light filled the room, throwing him backward on to the cold stone floor.

The light was followed by a great CRACK of sound, and he was plunged into momentary darkness. Draco was just regretting for the tenth time that night the absence of his wand, when a soft glow filled the room again, it came from a single amber mage light left glowing overhead, rather than the lurid red light that had filled the room earlier. They were blissfully alone, and all the glamours laid upon Ella had disappeared, leaving her naked brown skin glowing softly with a sheen of sweat.

He looked down at himself, and felt his chin. The beard was gone, the paint removed. He too was just himself.

"Ella?" He asked, not sure how to feel.

Her eyes, deep brown eyes, wise beyond their years, opened. She looked tired, and a bit scared, but not in pain.

_What do I say? What can I say?_ "Are you all right? I'm…..I'm sorry."

"Do not be. It was necessary. And they would not let me feel too much pain." She smiled softly. "The amulet?" She sat up, looking around for it.

He looked down at the stone where it had fallen. The jade oval now held a blood red ruby glowing softly in its center. He picked it up, and handed it to her.

She touched it reverently, and smiled again. "Thank you."

An awkward silence ensued. He sat down next to her, and she curled her legs underneath her, less self-conscious of her nakedness than he was.

Male pride and numerous questions ate at him, as well as a lingering sense of anger at losing control. No one had warned him sufficiently of that. He wondered if the same thing had happened to her.

"You said _they_." He said suddenly, as though her words had just penetrated his consciousness. "_They _wouldn't let you feel pain. Who are they? What…what was in me?" He didn't know if he made any sense, or what he was really trying to say.

She took a deep breath, and tried to marshal together her skills in English to explain secrets that few, even among the Itza were privy to. "For you….it was a drink…a potion….it let the spirit of the god into you."

He snorted.

She arched an eyebrow. "It matters not that you believe. But that is what happened. You need hold no guilt for your actions." He relaxed a bit, and released a breath he had not realized he was holding.

She continued. "As for me….I was Ixchel. All of her." She held up her wrists, which had glowed silver during the ceremony. Now, the small tattooed dots that he had noticed many times during the months of their friendship had returned. "Look at these, Draco. Really look."

His gray eyes flickered from her face to look down at her wrists. The circles were not simply dots. They were tiny faces. Dozens of them, all of them female. Like wizarding portraits, they moved, slightly. He was stunned.

"These are the Ixchel before me. Generations of them. My ancestors. They…they help me when I have need."

"They possess you." His voice was colder than he'd meant.

She paused, unsure of the meaning of his words, his tone. "They fill me with their knowledge, and Ixchel's power. They lessen the pain, and prepared me for you….for Kukulkan."

"You haven't known _me_." Draco said defensively. "I assure you, I can turn out a much better performance in the bed than that."

She smiled, again, that shy mysterious smile that so intrigued him from the first moment he'd seen it. "Then show me."

He smirked a bit, a suave smile that had conquered half the girls of Slytherin, and a fair number of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws as well. He leaned toward her, taking her face in his hands, and kissed her, coaxing her tongue into his mouth, and falling back into the cushions with her.

This time, the music that accompanied them was her moans and sighs, and his pleased purrs. He worshipped her body, and brought her to climax with agile fingers and tongue, before filling her with his cock again. Incensed at his earlier loss of control, he was driven to illustrate his skills as a lover to the maximum extent her newly initiated flesh would allow. By the time the light of dawn filtered through the lintel of the door, Ella could be assured that she would not be disappointed with her choice.


End file.
